


When Shields Collide

by orphan_account



Category: Reprise of the Spear Hero, 盾の勇者の成り上がり - アネコユサギ | Tate no Yuusha no Nariagari | The Rising of the Shield Hero - Aneko Yusagi
Genre: Angst, Coping with trauma, M/M, PTSD, dark themes, somewhat comedic but at the same time concerning, unhealthy dependency on the shield of wrath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24820801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Iwatani Naofumi, the God of Siltvelt, has a height complex.
Relationships: Kitamura Motoyasu/Iwatani Naofumi, L'Arc Berg/Iwatani Naofumi, Takt Arusahorun Faubrey/Iwatani Naofumi
Comments: 27
Kudos: 199





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Purefumi and Pedoyasu are from Reprise of the Spear Hero. The canon universe is happening before the Church of the Three Heroes fiasco. Reprise is straight after (spoiler!) the war of Siltvelt against Melromarc and Itsuki.

“How can you stand being around that damned womanizer?” Naofumi demanded, his hands itching to strangle the man standing across him, who shared the same face and hair, and wearing the jacket they were wearing when they were summoned. It’s only been ten minutes within their meeting, but years’ worth of confusion and disbelief coursed through his veins like winds in a storm. “Just thinking about it makes me sick,” he growled, shuddering at the mere thought.

Purefumi, who was nicknamed by Melty as such, shrugged and chuckled dryly. He was exactly like Naofumi before he was betrayed. Innocent, naïve, and too trusting. Naofumi despised that version of himself, and he wanted nothing more than to punch the person that stood before him. He would take the term “ _you have no one else to blame for what happened to you other than yourself_ ” literally.

“Motoyasu… isn’t that bad of a person,” Purefumi reasoned, raising his hands in attempt to calm the other’s raising anger. Behind them, Pedoyasu was in a brawl with Motoyasu, and having an upper advantage even without his spear. He currently held his ignorant counterpart in a headlock. No one paid attention to Motoyasu’s cries for help, and this included the two Naofumis. “If it weren’t for him, I’d be long dead.”

Naofumi glared, but Purefumi wasn’t affected by the intensity. “If I were you, I’d ask him to jump off a cliff.”

“I’ll follow your orders to the end of my days, Father!” Pedoyasu cried out, sitting on Motoyasu’s back, as he was the victor of the two. He looked mighty proud of himself for defeating his counterpart.

“Are you two in a relationship?” Naofumi deadpanned.

“Then did you actually sleep with a man?” Purefumi retorted.

It took a good amount of time for them to actually process the other’s accusations.

“NO!” they chorused, stepping back from each other in disgust. Naofumi’s expression darkened whilst Purefumi’s face burned bright red, the scarlet seeping down to his necks.

“I am proud to announce that I protected Father’s purity from those pigs!” Pedoyasu declared proudly, as if it was something to write home about. “I made sure of it personally because I watch him in the baths and his sleep.”

At that, everyone within a hundred-metre radius of them fell silent, stone-faced. All heads were craned to Pedoyasu, even Motoyasu, who’d stopped spluttering and turned to stare at his counterpart in disbelief. If Purefumi wasn’t flustered before, he sure was now. The one major flaw the Spear Hero possessed was that he was _absolutely_ terrible at explaining things! Purefumi couldn’t count the amount of misunderstandings Pedoyasu has caused just by spouting a word.

Naofumi, now positively disturbed, subtly backed away from his supposed innocent doppelganger. Not even he had a retort to respond to Purefumi’s distress. Motoyasu, on the other hand, was as loud as ever. “LIKE HELL!” Motoyasu shrieked, thrashing under Pedoyasu. “I’M NOT GAY! EVEN IF I WAS, I WOULD NEVER SLEEP WITH SCUM LIKE NAOFUMI!”

That was the wrong thing to say. As everyone watched, a bright light blinded everyone, forcing them to shield their eyes. Though, Purefumi wasn’t a stranger to this occurrence, as he cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed all the whilst still keeping his eyes shut: “Motoyasu! Put your spear away now! He isn’t as strong as you so he’ll die from that!”

Naofumi snorted so hard he doubled over. “By all means,” he stuttered, struggling to hold in his laughter, “aim it at his crotch.”

“As you wish, Father!”

“WHY ARE _YOU_ ENCOURAGING THIS?!” Purefumi whipped to Naofumi and grabbed the collar of his cloak, shaking him. As weak and average he might seem, his strength stat was nothing to be joked around. He could pick up Naofumi and throw him out of the window if he wanted to.

Naofumi was snickering so hard he didn’t even mind being shaken by a kinder version of himself. Nobody could see it, but the expression on his face looked like the absolute devil listening to the wondrous screams of his dying victims. Though, for those who did, sighed and turned their gaze away from the one-sided massacre.

While the Cardinal Heroes argued amongst one another, their party members stayed at a safe distance at camp, sipping tea from wooden cups. The four young fillolial king and queens were playing chase with Melty, who had a look of pure bliss on her face. Not just one, but _four_ fillolial children as her friends? She couldn’t be more ecstatic! Her screams of wonder could deafen someone from a mile away.

Other than that, there was one detail that she noticed when she was burning their images into her mind. “Hey, Filo, Sakura?” she called, catching the attention of the two fillolial queens. Filo whipped to her instantly, drool dripping from her mouth as she held a squeaking bunny in her hands. _She wasn’t plan on eating that live, was she?!_ Sakura, on the other hand, turned around slowly, like she was freshly woken from her sleep. “You two kind of look like each other, don’t you think?”

Yuki, who was lecturing Kuro, agreed. “They even smell the same,” she stated. “No one does that!”

Before this, Kuro was ploughing the grass like a lawnmower, leaving a neat trail of flattened field behind him. If they hadn’t known beforehand that the grass was a fairly common herb used for scenting oils, they would be concerned. At least Kuro will smell and burp like a walking stick of lemongrass for weeks, which was far better than mud.

Melty gaped, eyes shining with wonder. “Are you two secretly sisters?! Can fillolials have siblings? Maybe Naofumi found Sakura instead of Filo in the other world, but she’s secretly Filo’s sister! Oh, how tragic!”

“Filo doesn’t think that’s how it works…”

“Sakura doesn’t either…”

_BOOM!_ They looked over to see a cloud of mushroom shooting into the air, fire burning within the smoke like a nuclear bomb was set off. The gust of wind caused their hair and dresses to billow violently. Screams of _Motoyasu-sama!_ echoed in the air, but they turned back to each other like nothing happened.

Then, perhaps the loudest scream of all: _“I AM STRAIGHT!”_ It sounded suspiciously like Naofumi’s enraged voice, but whether if it was Tsundere Naofumi or Purefumi, nobody knew.

Yet the young children continued playing without a care in the world, whilst Filo and Kuro both drooled and tried to eat one another. _Are all fillolial royalty cannibals?! Does Fitoria eat fillolials to get this large?! Is this the legendary saying of “Survival of the Fittest”?!_ (Fitoria sneezed.)

Whilst the fillolials frolicked (while Melty and Yuki tried to stop Filo and Kuro from eating each other), the rest of their party members were left in a long-term glaring contest. If looks could kill, someone would end up resembling a bowl of spaghetti. Raphtalia and Éclair, despite not having meeting each other prior, instantly bonded with their mutual distaste for the royal pain, otherwise known as Bitch, who was also glaring at them. Behind her were her two lackeys, trying their best to avoid getting killed.

“Say,” Raphtalia said with a sinister smile on her face, “what happened to Bitch in your world, I wonder?”

Éclair returned her grin, brandishing her sword like it was normal. “Hm,” she hums indifferently, turning her blade at the right angle so Bitch would see her own horrified expression when she knew the answer. “If I recall, Sir Kitamura ran her through in front of the entire Melromarc and Siltvelt army, then destroyed her body with an explosion with his spear. Why’d you ask, dear Raphtalia?”

Raphtalia closed her eyes, ignoring the Bitch’s shouts. “Nothing, really.” She sheathed her own sword. “I was just curious, that’s all.”

Bitch stood from her seat. “YOU FILTHY DEMIHUMAN AND TRAITOR—”

A smoking spear impaled the ground before her, its tip glowing bright red. “SILENCE, PIG!” Pedoyasu shouted, glaring straight at the former princess as if she were lower than faeces. “You have no right to insult my father’s companions!”

Naofumi turned to Purefumi, his arms crossed as a wicked grin was plastered on his face. “Can I trade my Motoyasu for yours?”

Purefumi was so overwhelmed he forgot how to speak. He’d heard plenty of stories from Pedoyasu that the other him was twisted and evil in every way possible, and he began to believe it. No one here was sane but him. He was the only one left with actual common sense, but even he was beginning to lose it.

The worst thing?

He was the shortest here! Even to his own counterpart. Naofumi was taller by at least half a head. Is this a last-minute growth spurt you can get after being a walking demon? Sign him the fuck up. No more jokes about Shortfumi or Chibifumi! He would finally have his day!

But, didn’t the evil him sleep with a man?

Purefumi fell to his knees. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screamed, clutching his head in despair. All of this just because of his height and a few jokes.

“Yo, Pedoyasu!” Naofumi called, still grinning.

“Yes, Father?”

“Mind helping me blow up a church?”

“Anything you say, Father!” Pure bliss was the only thing that could be used to describe Pedoyasu’s face. Finally, a Father that didn’t mind him killing anyone!

They have a screw loose in their brains, Purefumi swore. He was powerless to stop them when they practically ran off (with Pedoyasu’s Portal Spear) like little girls running away from their teachers.

Motoyasu, on the other hand, had his soul leaving his body as he laid on the ground, traumatized by the entire ordeal. No amount of women can save him from this kind of fucked up PTSD.

Meanwhile, L’arc, Therese and Glass had been hiding in a bush nearby, watching the Shield Hero’s movements with a bit of magic. They decided that this was definitely not the day to attack, so they retreated knowing that the Cardinal Heroes they summoned wasn’t right in the head whatsoever.

The best thing? They weren’t the only ones keeping watch on the crackheads. On the tree where the trio had been hiding near, was a duo hidden amongst the leaves. Kitamura Naofumi and Sickle Naofumi, who were respectively wedded to the Spear Hero and the Scythe Hero.

"Man," Kitamura mutters rather indifferently, crossing his arms as he looked down to the chaos, "I wish my first days in Melromarc were like this."

Sickle Naofumi blinked. His eyes glittered with a rare innocence that couldn't be seen in anyone else. "Didn't he get betrayed and accused of rape, though?"

"Would you rather get married to a man just because- wait, you're already married to a man. Scratch that."

"Eh... I don't-"

From below, a collective screech could be heard from Motoyasu's party, as the small group of filolial queens decided that it was a good idea to uppercut the blond into the sky. Pedoyasu would be so proud.


	2. Sakura Demands Headpats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of Purefumi and Sakura shenanigans

Through unforeseen circumstances, Purefumi has ultimately been separated from Pedoyasu. This happened after they parted ways with Naofumi, when Purefumi had to chase after them to stop them from blowing anything up. How did this happen, you ask? Well, you see, Pedoyasu saw a fillolial running down the street, and he chased after it, with Yuki and Kuro following him. Sakura had stayed with Purefumi. Within mere minutes, they lost each other in the busy streets of Random Village #43.

“Naofumi,” Sakura said meekly, pulling at his jacket sleeve. “Where are we?”

Purefumi was cupping his chin, deep in thought as he looked around. The villagers were all pointing at him and dragging his name through the mud, and barely bothering to hide their disgust. It was worse than his world, and he couldn’t believe that the other him had to endure this every day. If it weren’t for Motoyasu, there was no doubt he would also end up twisted like his doppelganger.

Still, he turned to Sakura with a smile, ruffling her hair gently. At least she wouldn’t hate him, right? They would always be here with each other. “I don’t know, Sakura. Maybe we should take a look around for now.”

Sakura nodded, suddenly energized from the head pat. “Okay~” With a subtle skip in her step, she followed her Master’s footsteps as they ventured further into town.

What they didn’t know, however, was that a group of assassins watched their every move, brandishing weapons and poisons and the like, all aiming to strike the shield hero down. As Purefumi and Sakura disappeared further into the crowd, so did they, hiding their identities in cloaks.

* * *

“Naofumi, Naofumi!”

Purefumi turned to the pink-haired fillolial, eyebrows raising as he noticed her starstruck expression. “Yes, Sakura?” She pointed to a store that sold candied fruits. It was a stick of blue berries coated with hardened candy. “Oh, you want one?”

“Sakura wants a hundred!”

“Um, why am I not surprised…”

After abusing Purefumi’s wallet, Sakura happily gobbled up one stick after another as if she were eating chips. She held the rest in a paper bag as she made her way through the rest of the candied berries like nobody’s business. She just ate 10 silver coins’ worth of dessert, and he doubted that she was even satisfied.

“Naofumi!” Sakura called, tugging at his sleeve with a sticky hand. Though, Purefumi didn’t mind.

“Yes, Sakura?” He blinked when the young fillolial queen held up one of the candied fruit sticks, urging him to take it. “Is this for me?”

Sakura nodded confidently, her gaze one of determination. Purefumi had a feeling that she would wrestle him to make him eat it if he refused. He accepted it, ignoring the stickiness on the wooden stick, and bit into one of them. The candy was sweet, but the berry was sour. It tasted like strawberries from his world, with a twinge of raspberry. It made him miss home just a bit more.

“Is it nice?” Sakura asked with calm enthusiasm. Her eyes were practically sparkling with anticipation. “Is it? Is it?”

Purefumi smiled at her, and nodded. “It is,” he said. “Thank you, Sakura.”

“Then I want a head pat!” she stated her true purpose. “One minute of head pats for one berry!”

There were five berries on one stick, and he’d fallen into her trap. Purefumi’s not complaining, but damn… maybe she’s spent too much time with him whenever he’s out negotiating business deals. Éclair’s the one that chided him out for his ruthless arguments with the poor dealers. He worried that she’ll start learning from him and become a business shark herself. Sooner or later, he would have to dedicate his life for her head pats alone!

“But, Sakura—”

“Two for one berry!”

Yep. She was definitely taking off from him. He didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

“I’ll do it later,” Purefumi relented. “My hand’s still sticky from the sugar, so—”

“Sakura doesn’t mind. Sakura can wash it off later.”

“Sakura—”

“Three for one berry.”

_Damnittttttt!_

Purefumi sighed, finally giving in before she decided to raise it any further. He would never dream of arguing with her, so it was best to surrender to her newly earned 15-minute-headpat-session. Unfortunately for him, the moment his hand landed on her head and tried to lift it back up, he realized that his hand was stuck to her hair like superglue.

“Hey, Sakura,” Purefumi muttered, lifting his hand to find majority of Sakura’s hair sticking to his palm. “It’s sticking to my hand.” The sweet smell of candied sugar wafted in the air. There was no way it should harden that quickly, especially with his body heat, so unless the shopkeeper uses magic on their candy, or—

 _It’s a trap_.

Purefumi whipped around, looking for any immediate signs of a trap. At first, he found none, only disgusted stares from the townspeople. But as he looked closer, atop of the buildings, he could see a dark cloaked figure holding a miniature crossbow, aiming at not him, but Sakura.

The figure released the trigger, and a black shaped object was launched at her. Instinct acting before reason, he turned Sakura aside and covered her with his body, so the dart hit his back instead of her. It didn’t hurt, and he only felt a dull thud as it collided with his skin. The unused tranquilizer dart fell to the ground in clatters, rolling past their feet.

Purefumi sighed in relief, releasing Sakura. “You alright?” But she wasn’t looking at him. She was glaring straight at the cloaked figure, who was already running away. He didn’t recall her seeing so ticked off before. “Uh, Sakura?”

“He hurt Naofumi,” she said lowly, her fists clenching. The bag of sweets dropped to the ground, the contents spilling out. “SAKURA WILL PROTECT NAOFUMI!” In a poof of white smoke, she suddenly transformed into her fillolial form, with Purefumi’s hand still stuck to her head. She shrieked a war cry before pursuing their attacker, scaring everyone around them.

“SAKURA! I’M STILL STUCK TO YOUUUU!”

“Sakura likes the head pats! Thank you, Naofumi!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

And that was how Purefumi clung to Sakura’s back for dear life as she parkoured on building tops to avenge Purefumi.

If there was anything that came out of it, it was Purefumi getting the shock of his life, and Sakura being ever so satisfied with the forced head pats.

When Sakura finally caught up to the robed figure, Sakura stepped on them with a claw, glaring daggers and threatening to eat them. Naofumi managed to stop her before she did anything drastic.

Sakura unmasked them with a claw, as Purefumi’s eyes widened after recognizing their attacker. “Princess Malty?” he asked, amused. “So, you’re involved in this kind of business?”

Bitch was red in the face, her hair spilt out on the tiles. “Damn you, Shield Demon! I dare you to lay a finger on me. Daddy will—hmph!” She didn’t finish her sentence because Sakura stepped on her mouth.

Purefumi sighed. “At least it’s not someone dangerous.”

Sakura turned to Purefumi. “Can I eat her?” she asked earnestly. Bitch paled.

“No, you can’t eat humans.” His expression then turned spiteful, a shadow casting over his face. “Besides, I don’t think you can pierce that thick skin of hers.”

While Bitch spluttered in shock, the rest of their party arrived. It was Pedoyasu and Yuki atop Kuro’s fillolial form, with Pedoyasu’s clothes dripping with blood. Yuki’s dress was bloodied too, along with Kuro’s claws and feathers.

“Father!” Pedoyasu cried, beaming as he was reunited with the Shield Hero. “I have finally found you! We could see you riding gloriously atop Sakura as you chased down the Red Pig in fury! What a splendid example for all future heroes! Also, I killed a bunch of people who were trying to kill you.”

“Motoyasu, as much as I want to believe you, I can’t.”

Sakura beamed, raising a wing. “Sakura protected Naofumi!” she declared. “Bad lady tried to kill Naofumi, so Sakura chased after the Pig.”

What happened next was a blur. Sakura had transformed back to her human form, catching Purefumi in her arms like a bridal style. It was an amusing sight to watch: a young petite child with wings carrying a grown man within her arms, with a confident and satisfied expression on her face. Unfortunately for Purefumi, his hand was still stuck to her head. Then, Pedoyasu offered to kill off the princess to save further complications, which Purefumi was against it. They set the pig free in the end, though they robbed her of the 20 gold coins pocket change she always carried around.

Moreover, word soon reached Naofumi, Filo and Raphtalia’s ears. It was Erhard who told them: _The Shield Hero is seen in Lute Village as he was carried by a young child with wings_. Naofumi was absolutely livid—until he heard the part where they chased Bitch off and called her a pig, which he had to hold in his urge to laugh and roll around the floor.

Filo turned to Naofumi, scandalized. “Why can’t Filo carry Master like that?” she complained.

“Filo, you can’t possibly— _hey!_ ” Naofumi sputtered in surprise as the young, blonde fillolial tripped him and held him over her head like she raising a trophy. She beamed and ran around, carrying Naofumi without breaking any sweat. “Filo, put me down!”

“Filo doesn’t want to!”

_“FILO!”_

The day was well spent with Erhard and Raphtalia bending over, hollering with laughter as the unfortunate Shield Hero tried to free himself from his fillolial’s clutches.


	3. Sickle Naofumi's Past

Sickle Naofumi is a dangerous man. By any means, he didn’t look the part. He didn’t have any attack power, and he was always against resorting to violence. No; he wasn’t a feared man because _he_ was dangerous. It was because he had an overprotective, overpowered hubby.

Maybe it’s also because he had the power to summon Waves at will too.

Being a Shield, his only duty was to protect. Personally, he was fine with the job, but it also automatically pinned the title of demon and rapist on his head. He was wanted by Melromarc, but not in the good way. With no party members or allies on his side, he set out alone to fight the Waves in his own way.

With his only affinity as Support, he had access to other attack spells, though limited. He was quick to discover that he was unable to use spells to directly harm someone, so he improvised. He would open up a hole where his enemies were standing, and they would take damage from the fall. He would burn their cloak or clothes, so they would take fire damage, plus a great deal of humiliation. Still, fighting monsters was still a pain to deal with, but he bit his tongue and said _screw it_. (If he had any of his moralities left, he would chide himself for ever thinking of the swear word.)

He was obsessed with magic. He had no attack power, but he wasn’t limited to magic. He learned every status ailment he could find— _making his enemy to be afraid of an object_ , _giving them a curse of bad hair days_ —and memorized the entire grimoire. His level was absurdly low, even compared to an adventurer. He was at a measly 17 during the Second Wave, because he could only gain experience after learning spells, where even the most potent ones that took a month to learn would give him a sad 30 EXP. Not that he cared.

The one thing he _did_ care, however, was the Spear Hero’s harassments.

By any means, he was not flirtatious. He was always looking for trouble with him, demanding an explanation as to why he would force himself on the princess. Naofumi would always turn and walk away, Motoyasu’s shouts landing on deaf ears. Being well-versed with magic and aura, Naofumi knew when the Spear Hero was going to strike, or where he pointed his weapon. He didn’t have to fight, nor could he, so he did the most reasonable thing: dodging.

When Motoyasu began to involve civilians into his personal squabbles, destroying houses and market stalls, Naofumi acted. It wasn’t a powerful spell, but Motoyasu didn’t have any magic defence, even at level 183. At the time, Naofumi had been level 21, not even qualified for a class upgrade. He casted _Blindness_ and a Dexterity Debuff, so Motoyasu couldn’t use his spear well nor see.

Of course, no one took kindly to this. Not even the civilians that Motoyasu almost killed. They jeered at Naofumi, throwing rocks, rotten foods and garbage at him. What did they have to fear? The Shield Hero was weaker than your everyday adventurer. Walking around in broad daylight was almost like he was asking to be booed. He hurried out of town, and ignored all of the chants, head still buried in that same grimoire he’s read at least a hundred times.

He was glad to live his non-adventurous life. Once he was holding a book, the grim expression would disappear from his face entirely. He would read the pages with a gentle smile, as if the ink and paper were all he needed. His life was peaceful—as calm as living in the world with supernatural disasters could get—and without a care in the world. He did not register in the Dragon Hourglass, so he wouldn’t be teleported there.

At least, it remained that way, until he met an idiot.

L’arc, no matter how Naofumi saw him, was an airhead. They met during the Cal Mira Archipelago, where Naofumi had been under royal orders to go. This happened after the trial, where the Queen cleared the Shield Hero’s name before the public, despite Naofumi himself not being present. It wasn’t long before she sent shadows to him, asking him to go to the islands to raise his level. Naofumi refused at first, but the Queen insisted, and he would be free to do whatever he pleased there.

“I’m truly sorry, Sir Shield Hero, but the other Heroes have taken up all the cabins. Would it be alright for you to share a room with two other adventurers?”

The captain could be lying. He could be trying to make Naofumi’s trip as miserable as possible, but Naofumi didn’t care. He was used to harsh conditions where he would starve, ache for days. If he drowned, so be it. He would be fine as long as he had his books.

When he got to the shared room, however, he instantly realized that there would be no peace for him. Because the two people inside were optimistic and enthusiastic, and especially _loud_. Naofumi despised them off the bat. They introduced themselves as L’arc Berg and Therese Alexandrite, both adventurers coming to level up during Cal Mira’s active period.

L’arc stared at Naofumi’s dark green cloak that reached down to his ankles, and his clothing he wore when he arrived at this world. “What about you, kiddo? You don’t look like a fighter.”

“Me?” Naofumi tilted his head, confused. Oh, they were thinking he was going there to raise his levels too. “I’m not. I’m here because someone asked me to, but I’ll just spend my time reading.”

Therese chuckled. “You sure love reading, don’t you?” she said. “It’s a bit of a waste. This place only activates once a decade, so are you sure you’re not going to at least try?”

“Yeah. You could join our party too, kiddo!”

Naofumi blinked, surprised. He’s never been in a party before. It wouldn’t hurt to try. “Sure,” he agreed. “As long as I can read. It’s not like I have any attack stats anyway.”

L’arc grinned, swinging an arm around his shoulder, causing the shorter man to be thrown off-balance by his weight. “It’s alright, Kiddo!” he exclaimed. “You can’t spend your days in the inn reading, right?”

_Actually, I can._

The door knocked, which then opened to reveal a young sailor wearing a bandanna. He was nervous, at first, but he requested for Naofumi’s presence, bringing their conversation to a close. As they walked towards the deck, the sailor explained that the presence of the Four Cardinal Heroes would boost their morale. _So, it’s like a specific status boost_. He’s read about it in a history book somewhere, that certain buffs would only be activated by certain groups.

Naofumi didn’t see the point in this, yet he followed, his mind still itching to find a quiet place to curl up and immerse himself in the world of books. As the sailor opened the door to the deck, a ray of sunlight poured inside, draping straight onto his face. He squinted, raising his hand to block the light from his eyes.

“ _Naofumi_.” He turned to his name, which was uttered by the blond hero, with not much venom as it was intended for. Motoyasu was clutching onto the railings, his head hanging over the ocean, glare fixated onto the Shield Hero. Face green with nausea, looking like throwing up his breakfast any moment, and still he found the energy to spite the man that stood before them, unscathed and unaffected by the sea. He unclasped the fence, whirling around to wobble over to the dark-haired man, gripping his spear as the tip glowed brightly. “You—you bastard! I’m going to make you pay for what you did to Myne!”

After finishing the sentence, his eyes immediately widened, hand shooting to cover his mouth. He darted towards the sea and emptied his stomach of whatever contents it possessed, the sound effects making even the sturdiest man cringe.

Naofumi scratched the back of his head, turning to the younger two in confusion. They were just as disorientated as the Spear Hero, leaning on the wooden railings as they tried to catch their bearings. Though, they fared better than their elder, haven’t yet began projectile puking. “Didn’t my name get cleared already?” he asked sceptically. “I was sure I saw the broadcast in a village.”

“Why aren’t you… affected?” Ren wretched, holding his stomach. “It’s not fair.”

“I don’t know, either,” Naofumi replied. “I’ve never been on a ship before. This is my first. Luck, I guess?”

Itsuki blanched. “Sweet God,” he muttered. “I think I see the light.”

Naofumi realized that he wasn’t going to get much of a conversation with them. The sailors around them were equally baffled, if not, exasperated that three out of four Cardinal Heroes were prone to seasickness, easily defeated by the might of a ship. He almost sympathized with them if they weren’t the ones who forced him to be on the run. And even after his crimes were cleared, Motoyasu still clung onto his party member’s lies and tried to seek vengeance upon Naofumi. He was amused, as you didn’t come across this kind of stupidity every day.

He spent the rest of the day holed up in his cabin. He’d taken the lower bunk, and L’arc was occupying the one above him. Without wanting to be disturbed, he hung his blanket to cover his little space, blocking out the lights and the outside world. Turning on a miniature lantern and setting it by his pillow, he laid on his belly, his upper body arching as he supported his chin with hand, flipping his book with the other, legs kicking at random.

He lost track of time completely. It wasn’t until he heard the door opening, footsteps leading in that he realized that L’arc and Therese have returned. They were out earlier, saying that they were going to look around the ship, but there wasn’t much to see to begin with. Naofumi doubted that there will be people to talk to, either, because the other heroes had hogged every empty room.

“Kiddo, you’re still in there?” L’arc asked, appalled. He pulled the makeshift curtain aside with a hand, his surprised expression barely hidden. “Have you even moved from your bed?”

“Have you at least eaten dinner?” Therese asked, her voice like a mother’s.

“Dinner?” Naofumi turned to the window sanctioned by the wall. Instead of the blue sky and white clouds he saw earlier, it was midnight blue, the tides getting more erratic by the second. He’s stayed here the entire day! “It’s _night_?”

L’arc burst into laughter. “Dang, Kiddo! You’re really married to your books,” he commented, putting his hands on his hips. “Come on. We’ll go with you to see if there’s any leftovers.”

Naofumi opted to protest, as he was fine going without a meal, but L’arc insisted. When Naofumi refused for the third time, the redheaded man grabbed his wrist and practically dragged him to his feet, while Therese pushed him outside.

Why did he feel like he was being adopted by extroverts?

Turns out, there weren’t any leftovers either. The Heroes had taken every morsel of meals, claiming their party had been famished from their travels. Not even the alcohol was spared, though he very much doubted Itsuki and Ren were of legal age.

“They don’t sound very heroic,” L’arc grumbled, eyes narrowing as a knight poured a tray of food down the sea on the deck. He was burly and had a beer gut, shown through his armour. The knight was from the Bow Hero’s party. “Those leftovers were probably someone’s meal for tonight. That food looks fresh, like it’s barely been eaten.”

Naofumi shrugged, yawning. “Trust me. They can do worse.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking out tears from the yawn. “I’ll just have breakfast tomorrow.”

They didn’t relent, either. When Naofumi tried to walk back to their cabin, L’arc snagged the back of his hood, and forcibly dragged him towards the direction of the kitchen. Therese offered to cook for him, not wanting to trouble the sailors, but Naofumi refused instantly, also refusing to trouble Therese. They argued back and forth like a married couple before coming to a compromise that they’ll cook together.

Though, throughout their impromptu cooking session, L’arc had been leaning on the wall nearby, bringing up conversation with them. It was mostly trivial topics, asking why Naofumi went by the name _Naofumi_ , why was he addicted to books, or what was his clothes made of. He answered all of them, except for the first one.

“Something tells me the reason you’re not helping is because you burn everything you cook.”

“Hey! That’s not—yeah, it is.”

Next to Naofumi, Therese choked on her laughter.

By the end of their session, they only realized then that Naofumi accidentally made a full course meal. He was so distracted by L’arc’s conversation that he worked on autopilot, making recipes that he learned from his homeworld. Therese was speechless, while L’arc gave him a look that asked him, _Are you serious?_ Due to the large amount, they invited the ship’s crew to dinner too, though Naofumi remained silent through all of it. He smiled and nodded when someone complimented his cooking, but he was uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being in crowds that didn’t boo or hurl insults at him.

When they arrived at Cal Mira, L’arc’s prophecy of Naofumi had come true. The man spent the entire first day holed up in his inn, reading the books he bought from the locals. It wasn’t until Therese came knocking at his door at night that Naofumi realized that he wasted another day again.

“Sometimes, Naofumi, I wonder what’s really going in that head of yours.”

“We met for _two days_ , Therese!”

They partied together for the second day, and L’arc was shocked at Naofumi’s level. L’arc and Therese were at 56 and 52 each. They would do most of the damage while Naofumi stayed back to watch, almost always seen with a different book in hand. L’arc swore he would see the kid with a different book every time they got back from another batch of monsters. His reading speed was unparalleled.

For the next few days, they stuck together. At nights, they would hit the bars. Naofumi initially refused and tried to sneak back to his inn, but L’arc and Therese would always drag him with them as if he was already part of their dysfunctional group. On the first night, L’arc had to keep a firm eye on Naofumi lest he run back. The same went with the second. On the third, however, Naofumi finally relaxed and helped himself to a drink.

And ten more.

“Geez, remind me not to never get in a drinking contest with you,” L’arc ogled, holding his third cup whilst Naofumi was on his thirteenth, still going strong. After three days of non-stop grinding, L’arc was on level 73, Therese on 71, and Naofumi on 70. They were surprised at his sudden EXP gain as well as Naofumi. “For someone who looks like they can’t hurt a balloon, you sure are a beast when it comes to drinking.”

Naofumi set the empty mug down. The poor waiter left to get his fourteenth fill. “I don’t know about it, either,” he admitted. “I didn’t really drink before. This is my first time trying.”

“Let me guess, you read all the time and miss out on the good things in life.”

“More like everyone hates me on sight and tries to kill me.”

On the fifth day, L’arc reached 79, Therese 76, and Naofumi 74. On this particular day, they didn’t grind anymore, because there was a royal knight at the beach, along with a crowd of adventurers. The knight was holding out a scroll, the Queen’s decree. They were recruiting adventurers to fight the Wave.

Naofumi shouldn’t be surprised when L’arc and Therese volunteered, but he was when they asked him to come with them.

“Your defence is off the charts, Naofumi. You’d be of great help.”

Sighing, he agreed, officially joining their party as they boarded the ship, ready to be teleported to the Waves.

What happened next was a blur. The three heroes didn’t do anything much, which L’arc did most of the job. When the heroes tried to collect loot from the monster, L’arc and Therese attacked them, much to Naofumi’s shock. Though he didn’t like the three, he still stepped in front of them, holding his shield out to defend. They can’t die, or the Waves will be impossible to defeat.

Even L’arc and Therese were dumbfounded by Naofumi’s actions. It was a logical reaction, because Naofumi belonged in this world. But they didn’t expect that he _is_ the Shield Hero. The same Shield Hero that went missing ever since he was convicted of rape, and didn’t even show up to the trial that cleared his name. The trial had ended with the former princess and the king’s execution, swiftly followed by the Queen committing suicide in front of the country, leaving her kingdom to her daughter’s care.

“What the hell, L’arc?” Naofumi demanded. “Aren’t you the vassal scythe hero? Why are you attacking them?”

L’arc’s eyes widened, his scythe dipping in the process. “You knew?”

“Of course!” Naofumi spat, scandalized. “What do you think I’ve been reading? Vassal Heroes are meant to _help_ the Cardinal Heroes, not _kill_ them! It’s literally the first line of the _History of the Vassal Weapons_. Did you get that scythe handed to you without an instruction manual?”

They then spent the next few months discussing and meeting up with other Vassal Heroes to discuss this matter. Naofumi was the leader of the operation, gathering information of each world and looking for patterns of the Wave. Glass, who was later introduced to Naofumi, was equally astonished. She hadn’t been given information on the Shield Hero’s existence, only the Three Unheroic Stooges.

Though, it quickly it a dead wall. Five out of the Eight Vassal Weapons were missing. Ethnobalt claimed he couldn’t find the others, too, in spite of his power. This was when Naofumi knew something was wrong. He set off to see the Spirit Tortoise to gain permission to go to another world, as he read from a previous Cardinal Hero’s diary, but he found trouble instead. Kyo, the rogue Book Hero, had been trying to take control of the Spirit Tortoise itself.

Naofumi, despite having no attack power, managed to distract Kyo with a duel of spells, using oddball magics to his advantage. It was long enough for Naofumi to ram himself onto Kyo and pry the book from his hands, holding onto the weapon despite his systems screaming at him for the action. He flipped through the pages, looking for information he could get, then his eyes saw one particular spell before it disappeared, as the book no longer listened to Kyo.

Kyo was ultimately killed by Ost, L’arc, Therese and Glass, and the book faded from Naofumi’s hand, in search of its new owner. The battle was won, but Naofumi couldn’t believe his eyes. He was staring at his empty hand, eyes wide, fingers shaking, as if someone had died in his arms.

“Kiddo,” L’arc said cautiously, approaching him with a concerned tone. “You alright there? You—”

“A spell,” Naofumi cut him off, looking up to him with fearful eyes. “He had a _spell_ —” He was nearly hyperventilating, his breaths erratic and hectic, eyes darting around the room. He felt a pair of strong arms on his shoulders, gripping him firmly and comfortingly.

“Naofumi, you need to calm down.” L’arc frowned. They’ve just defeated Kyo, so why was he so scared? Did Kyo cast a status ailment, or—

“It’s a spell that summons the Waves, L’arc,” Naofumi breathed, his shaking hands moving up to grip L’arc’s wrists. They were still shaking. “Tell me to calm down _now_.”

L’arc didn’t.

* * *

“All of that, and you still haven’t told me how you and that idiot got together,” Kitamura Naofumi said dryly, staring at his counterpart. “No offense, but he acts exactly like a demented husky to me.”

Sickle Naofumi scoffed, holding the metal cup to his lips. It was still steaming, as the coffee was still hot. “After _that_ , I panicked for weeks and tried to leave society. He literally barged into my inn and slapped me. Few months later, we got married. Turns out I’m not as straight as I thought I was and neither did he.” He paused, blowing the steam from his cup. “You? What do you even see in that blond idiot?”

Kitamura Naofumi hummed, tapping his lips as he recounted his time when they were out grinding levels, fighting the Waves. If he’d known that it was caused by a spell, he would have stormed over to Kyo’s laboratory and rip that damn book from his hands.

“Actually, we didn’t marry out of love,” he admitted, much to Sickle Naofumi’s surprise. “It was more of a _protection_ for me. In Siltvelt, plenty of women wanted to have my children, so one day he got so fed up fending them off and just declared to the entire country we’re engaged. I lost count on how many nobles offered up their sons the next day, all of them looking like they want to see me on a bed the moment I met them.”

Kitamura Naofumi was shivering as he thought back, so Sickle Naofumi didn’t push the matter.

“Motoyasu scared them off.” Kitamura Naofumi covered his face in shame. “I never saw relationships the same way again.”

… he was definitely traumatized.


	4. KItamura Naofumi's Past

Kitamura Naofumi wasn’t someone who you would go to for a hug or a talk. No, the Shield Hero that governed the country Siltvelt was not to be taken lightly or approached. In spite of his kind demeanour displayed towards his close allies, he didn’t tolerate any mishaps in the royal council, and will go far lengths to be rid of those who threaten his friends. As much as the country worshipped the Shield, those who opposed him feared his name for many nights to come.

Naofumi himself didn’t appreciate the title of _God_ , but to instil power and fear within those who he controlled, it was a necessary measure, especially with the council who sought to use him for their personal gains. Not just political favours, either; it was something much more… _personal_.

Today, he’s sent the thirtieth-something noble out of the palace, who claimed that he’d brought him an item that would cater to his every need, and satisfy his every desire. Naofumi knew where this was going. He heard that sentence upon his first day of arrival, and to his expectations, the noble brought before his throne an exquisite woman with animal features, dressed in cloth that couldn’t even be counted as underwear. Naofumi could barely cast a glance at them, his expression darkening as he covered his face with a hand, waving his hand to Motoyasu, who stood dutifully by his side, to get them out before he loses his sanity.

No—Naofumi is not embarrassed or even flustered. He was utterly disgusted. He believed women were on equal par with men, but those who use their body to gain whatever they desired from men always left a bad taste in Naofumi’s mouth. His opinion of those nobles and women couldn’t go any lower.

They didn’t get the message, either. Day after day, hour after hour, some nobles would demand to see him and bring upon their daughters, slaves, or even wives to offer him or attempt to please him. Suffice to say, he was not amused. If Melromarc’s unruly hatred against him wasn’t enough to ruin his day, or the council’s attempts to eradicate him and replace him with a demihuman, this topped the icing on the cake and the cherry on top. Even Kou’s beginning to notice his foul moods as of recent, claiming his eyes now shone with the same hatred for woman that they saw in Motoyasu.

“You seem… tense, Lord Iwatani,” Éclair noted, trying to keep a smile on her face. “Is everything alright?”

Naofumi growled at his food. For all he knew, there was poison in it. Thank god for Éclair. She was the only sane woman he knew. “Yes,” he muttered. “Everything’s _fine_.”

Everything was clearly not fine.

As much as Motoyasu loved his fillolials and obsessed over a non-existent one, he was the only one Naofumi could trust. Naofumi could tell Motoyasu also cringed whenever a half-naked woman appeared in the room, and was barely holding his tongue back from screaming. Though, his methods were extreme, and there was no doubt that if Naofumi gave the word, he would go on a murder spree. Naofumi hated the forced matchmaking, but he didn’t wish death upon anyone. He bit his tongue and kept his mouth shut… for now.

The next bath was the last straw. Despite Naofumi’s many commands _(read: threats)_ of giving him the privacy he wanted, he still found the bathroom filled to the brim with women, all barely clothed and skin red with steam. This time, Sakura wasn’t here to bail him out. She was with Éclair in the women’s baths, and Naofumi could hear her whines from a mile away. He snapped from the shrill voices deafening his ears and screamed.

_“I’M NOT INTO WOMEN, OKAY?!”_

Naofumi was a calm and collected leader, and always knew what to say in what situation he faced. But this time, he spoke his mind, and things escalated like a 0-degree angle—dead straight _up_. It quieted the crowd down, at first, which was what Naofumi wanted. They left the bath, sullen and without resistance.

Then the next day, Naofumi found the bath filled with men.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he went to bed that night. He buried his face into the pillow, throwing a fit like a high-school teenager, while Sakura gave him headpats that were supposed to be comforting. At this point, not even Éclair had words to comfort him. All of this was too absurd to be true.

“I knew Siltvelt was extreme, but isn’t this a bit too…?!”

“Lord Iwatani, I suggest you should rest early tonight. You’ve had a long and tiring day.”

Naofumi screamed into his pillow.

When Naofumi finally dragged himself to the throne the next morning, already itching to return to the wild, grinding levels with Sakura and Éclair, he was met with a long line of nobles outside. Some of them had already come once with their daughters or wives, and now they had come for a second chance. Naofumi was wrong to think: _at least they won’t try to bring more naked people here_. Boy, he was wrong on another level.

This time, they brought suitors. This time, they were all men.

Naofumi never saw men attractive in any shape or form, nor did he have any interest in forming a relationship with the same gender, but this was more concrete reason not to. He spent the next few hours shooing suitors out, which proved to be more difficult than the previous endeavour, because men were _stubborn_.

Before, he was frustrated and irritated because of the countless women sent to be his concubines. Now, he was cry-screaming as he violently shook Motoyasu’s shoulders, demanding what the hell did he do wrong, and why all of a sudden was everyone trying to dominate him on a bed.

“It’s because you are physically attractive, Father! I can see why men would come across all countries to bed you!”

Naofumi froze, glare locked onto the taller blond. “Motoyasu, please tell me you aren’t—”

“Hm? I go both ways, but my heart is strictly for Filo-chan and Filo-chan’s only!” He turned serious. “But, Father, unless you find the one who you truly want to be with, You must not open your legs for anyone.”

“I DON’T EVEN WANT TO _BE_ WITH SOMEONE, LET ALONE ‘OPENING MY LEGS’!”

“Father, please calm yourself. I’m certain we can find a way to settle this!”

“ _Please_ do. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

The day ended with Naofumi having a sprinkle more of trauma in his mind, and with Sakura’s comforting headpats as she said, _get well soon. Do you want Sakura to kick those guys out of the palace?_

Naofumi hadn’t a clue on how to handle this situation, because it was already frustrating enough as it is. He would trust Motoyasu to handle it, as how he handled every other threat. At least, with the minimal amount of killing and blood. So he sat dutifully on the throne the day after, cheek resting on palm, waiting for whatever complaint to come into the room. He felt more of an argument mediator, with arguing couples coming to him when they couldn’t decide who should take the house and who should keep the children.

It’d only been minutes into the day, and a suitor had already arrived.

Naofumi was about to deny their entry, waving his hand to indicate he was definitely _not_ in the mood to deal with such trivial matchmaking, but then the suitor came storming in the palace instead, pushing past guards and avoiding orders from knights. Before Naofumi could react, the wolf demihuman had come straight in front of him, his hands on the throne’s armrest, his face only inches from Naofumi’s.

_WHAT THE HELL?! IS THIS GUY LIKE MOTOYASU TO A FILLOLIAL OR SOMETHING??_

Naofumi shrunk into his seat as much as possible, but there was nowhere to run. The man’s build was larger than him, his burly arms blocking Naofumi, sweat dripping over his jacket. Despite his Shield, he had no attack, he didn’t have any necessary skills to counter him in close proximity yet—

“Take me as your mate, Shield Hero,” the demihuman declared, his breath sour from meat. “I will see to it myself that you are treated with nothing but the utmost care!”

_Isn’t this sexual harassment?!_

Motoyasu, fortunately, came to his aid. He shoved the demihuman aside, glaring daggers with his spear in tow. The demihuman stumbled away, but he didn’t trip, still standing on the first few steps to the throne.

“You scum!” Motoyasu spat, expression darkening. “How dare you treat Fumi with such disrespect!”

_Wait. Did he call me Fumi, and not Father?_

“And who are you to stop me? I am simply stating what the Shield Hero desires!”

_What I desire is for you and everyone else to go die in a ditch and leave me alone!_

“Have you no shame?” Motoyasu hollered, slamming the butt of his spear to the ground, echoing throughout the room. “How dare you accost someone who’s already engaged to another?”

_Wait, what?!_

“Motoyasu, what are you—”

“THAT’S RIGHT!” Motoyasu turned to face the rest of the throne room, raising his spear into the air. His voice was loud and clear for everyone to hear. Naofumi, from the corner of his eye, caught Éclair holding a crystal ball, one that was used for broadcasts. “The Shield Hero’s heart is already taken by another!”

_Last I checked, I was single!_

“Preposterous!” the demihuman roared, jabbing a finger at the Spear Hero’s chest. Motoyasu didn’t flinch, merely glaring back down to the one who dared attempt to defile Father. “Who is this person, then? Where are they?”

Without missing a beat, Motoyasu puffed his chest out and grinned darkly at him. “That would be _me_!”

The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Everyone turned to stare at the Spear Hero, then the Shield Hero, then back to the Spear Hero again. It was like looking at a tennis match, but with two heroes. One had the expression of the victor, whilst the other grew so horrified that he looked like he wanted to melt into a puddle of water and evaporate.

“My apologies, Lord Iwatani,” Éclair said quietly, sneaking by him. “Lord Kitamura has requested this of me. Or should I call you Lord Kitamura, as well?”

Naofumi promptly proceeded to die inside.

After the whole fiasco, Naofumi called it a day and confronted Motoyasu. He grabbed Motoyasu’s shoulders and shook him, screaming like a teenager. “What the hell are you _doing_?!” he demanded. “People are going to expect us to get married or something!”

“Well, by law, the husband of the marriage can wed more than one woman,” Motoyasu explained, barely fazed by Naofumi’s assault. “I can be with Filo after you, Father!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!” Naofumi paused, the gears in his brain turning. “I’m not even a woman!”

“It’s to ward off those pigs and hogs, Father!” Motoyasu continued. “Now no one will dare sent another suitor in your face again.”

“Isn’t there a better way?!”

Naofumi did not know what to expect next. There was a humungous wedding thrown for him and Motoyasu, and he still can’t wrap his mind around the entire ordeal. Rose petals were scattered on the white carpet, with Yuki, Kou and Sakura being the flower girls (and boy). Éclair barely managed to prevent them from eating the roses as they prepared for the big moment.

Of course, many tried to sabotage the wedding by putting even more poison, assassinations and even a raid, but they were subdued by Motoyasu. Motoyasu had shown up at the altar with his pants and spear dripping in blood, which only frightened the poor priest.

Naofumi, meanwhile, was forced to wear layers upon layers upon layers of corsets and dresses. He was so overwhelmed that he didn’t notice the maids have finished dressing him in his bridal gown, which was so extravagant and excessive that he tripped on the dress at least a dozen times, just by trying to get out the room.

Sakura didn’t understand anything. She clung to Naofumi’s dress and cried him a river, mumbling _Naofumi’s going to leave Sakura for Motoyasu_ over and over again. Meanwhile, Kou had tried to transform more than once, with Yuki hot on his tails as they brawled outside the avenue. They showed up at the altar with bumps on their heads, presumably given by Éclair.

Ren was somehow invited, and he remained gobsmacked through it all. He sat at the edge of the room, trying to keep a straight face, but he pinched himself to stop his laughter from erupting. He soon failed, however, when Motoyasu got to his knees and slid a ring onto Naofumi’s finger. He was met with a bouquet to the face, still sparkling with electricity from Naofumi’s hand—anything can be a weapon if he put his mind to it.

However, that also meant that Ren, by tradition and myths, was the next in line to be wed. He kept this a secret from his party members. He did _not_ need them cooing about him and Itsuki whenever they meet up.

Even though it was a wedding in name only (though only Naofumi and his friends know this), Éclair took up the role of the best man too seriously, even coming up with a speech of her hopes for the two “lovers” and their “love” conquering all in the future.

That fiasco ended with Naofumi plunging Motoyasu’s face in the cake as revenge, and Sakura clinging onto Naofumi’s waist whilst he walked, crying about her master leaving her forever. It took Naofumi four hours of convincing that he, was indeed, not leaving. She finally fell asleep after another hour of continuous headpats.

Motoyasu and Naofumi did not marry out of love. Their relationship remained the same, and the marriage was in name only. Though many council members were constantly pressuring Naofumi with questions: _How will you have an heir? Will you adopt a noble’s child?_ But thankfully, they did not prepare days’ worth of interviews with nobles graciously throwing their children away for Naofumi to pick.

It took Naofumi around two months to kick the corrupted council members out and replace them with the people he trusted. Then, he was never bothered by suitors or the topic of heirs again, and he ruled Siltvelt and fought the Waves in peace.

… there was also the fact that Naofumi didn’t leave his room for another week after that wedding.

* * *

“That must’ve been difficult,” Sickle Naofumi said, sympathizing with his counterpart’s story. It wasn’t tragic, by any means, but it was traumatizing. “I’m glad that I didn’t need to deal with problems like that.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t put your own troubles past you, though.” Kitamura Naofumi pulled his hood lower. He could feel his neck burning from embarrassment. “If I had your power, I’d want to run away too.”

“Eh. You just have to try to forget it and enjoy the little things.”

Kitamura Naofumi agreed to that. As the well-known god in Siltvelt, he had no time for luxury and relaxation. It was only after the Waves that he had some sort of serenity, but even so, the extremists from the Shield Hero Church harassed him everyday until they had at least saw him. He lost count of the times where the maids tried to sell his bathwater.

“Well, in this world, our life’s calmer.” Kitamura Naofumi nodded to that. Though the other them would say otherwise, they all had their own qualms to handle. “At least it’s—”

A shuffle in the woods caught both their attention. Kitamura abruptly stood from his seat whilst Sickle already conjured up the most ridiculous spell he could think of. But, as they looked closer, they could see a hint of metal poking through the night, followed by a familiar, but purple jewel.

They lowered their guard, which was quickly replaced by surprise. As they continued to observe, a woman with demonic armour, and an all-too familiar shield on her arm. Her hair was short and cut like a boy’s, but with a feminine. Almost like both Naofumi’s hairstyles, but smoother and longer. When she noticed them, her eyes widened, scowl dropping.

“What the hell?” Naomi’s eyes widened, stepping backwards. “Am I seeing things?”

_This is more complicated that I_ thought, Sickle Naofumi thought, swallowing as he put his hands up. Because damn, Naofumi or not, she was really scary.

* * *

_Omake #1 (Screw you, Trash)_

**Aultcray (Trash):** _DAMN YOU,_ _SHIEEEEELD!_

**Iwatani Naofumi:** Fuck you, which one?

* * *

_Omake #2 (Poor Raphtalia)_

**Raphtalia:** Um, Master Naofumi-

**Kitamura Naofumi:** Yes?

**Sickle Naofumi:** You called?

**Iwatani Naofumi:**...

**Purefumi:** You know what? I'll just keep quiet.

* * *

_Omake 3 (Motoyasu is confused)_

**Motoyasu:** You're Naofumi! (Points to Iwatani) _You're_ Naofumi! (Points to Purefumi, who chuckles awkwardly) And _you two_ are also Naofumi! (Points to Sickle and Kitamura Naofumi) Are there anymore Naofumis I should know about?!

**Naomi:** I'mma 'bout to do what's called a pro gamer move.

* * *

_Omake 4 (During the Spear and Shield's Sacred Duel)_

**Naomi:** Listen up! We're going to go through this only _once_ \- We get in the arena, bitch slap Motoyasu across the face before Iwatani loses it and unlocks the Curse Series, then we get the fuck out! Are there any questions?

**Kitamura Naofumi:** Um, that's my husband, though.

**Sickle Naofumi:** Aren't you two married in name only?

**Purefumi:** Yeah, but humiliating Motoyasu in public seems a bit... _extreme_.

**Sickle Naofumi:** I don't really care about him that much, but I can just summon a Wave and distract everyone! Is that too much?

**Naomi:**... are you trying to kill us all?

* * *

_Omake 5 (L'arc's Betrayal)_

**Sickle Naofumi:** Man, I shouldn't have married that bastard.

**Purefumi:** Why is that your only reaction?!

* * *

_Omake 6 (Every Naofumi's Cooking)_

**Raphtalia:** Master Naofumi's cooking is usually simple and light, but this is too spicy! It's inedible!

(Everyone turns to Purefumi, who's eating ghost peppers like chips.)

**Purefumi:** What? It tastes great!

* * *

_Omake 7 (Iwatani's Done With Melromarc)_

**Iwatani Naofumi:** Teach me the spell to summon the Waves.

**Sickle Naofumi:** Um, it's a very dangerous spell that could tear the fabric of the universe apart if not careful. The Waves are not something to be joked with, even if it could be controlled at will by a strong of words. Using the spell itself is already taxing on the mind and soul, even more than your Curse Series itself. Not only does it eat away at your mental health and chip away your memories, there is a chance that you, despite still being a Hero and human, that you will succumb to the Wave's magic influence and become somewhat of a demonic lord yourself. Not only that, you will also gain the ability to see everything from different dimensions, even if you don't want to. You can and will be overwhelmed by the amount of agony you caused throughout the land and knowing us, you'll blame yourself even to the ends of the Earth, and therefore unlocking even higher tiers of the Shield of Wrath or possibly more Cursed Shields like Sorrow and Regret, which will also destroy you even further if your mind is even still intact. It's a lose-lose spell, and you can't stop the Waves after you cast it.

**Sickle Naofumi:** So, do you still want to try it...?

**Iwatani Naofumi:** I saw Motoyasu flirting with Filo. And if-

**Sickle Naofumi:** Say no more. So first you have to-

**Naomi:** _HOLD UP._

* * *

_Omake 8 (Screw you, Trash 2.0)_

**Aultcray (Trash):** DAMN YOU, _NAOFUMI!!!_

**Sickle, Kitamura, Iwatani and Purefumi:** Huh?

**Aultcray (Trash):** Uh, I meant the Shield Demon!

**Naomi:** _HUH?_

**Aultcray (Trash):** Gah! I meant Iwatani!

**Purefumi, Naomi, Iwatani:**...

**Naomi:** Can I kill him?

**Iwatani:** Be my guest.

**Aultcray (Trash):** Ack! I meant the one that raped my daughter!

**Everyone:** (Walks away)

**Aultcray (Trash):** HOW DARE YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Different Naofumis have different jewel colours on their shield! This is a detail that was hinted from another one of my books, "Behind Sapphire Eyes" where Purefumi has a blue gem and eyes instead of green. The same goes here, with different Naofumis having different eye-colours and shield jewel colours.
> 
> Purefumi: Blue  
> Sickle Naofumi: Red  
> Kitamura Naofumi: Yellow  
> Naomi (fem!Naofumi): Purple


	5. Iwatani Naomi's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there's a fem!Naofumi too. :D I promise this is the last Naofumi I'll add.

Naomi Iwatani, despite her appearance, is not the sweetest person in the world. With a soft smile comparable to one of a dainty flower’s, eyes so sharp that it could cut steel, she was easily one of the most dangerous Heroes that Melromarc has ever summoned; if not, the most. Born into a normal family with a younger sister, she was often soft-spoken and kind-hearted to the ones around her. She never spoke out of line, never talked back to her parents, until they decided to neglect her existence entirely.

Her sister was so much better than her. With higher grades, a prettier face and a better social status, their parents quickly favoured her over Naomi. It hadn’t been Naomi’s fault for falling back in classes, either; she was the only one bringing income to their family, because their parents were always out gambling or drinking. Working three jobs at once would take a mental toll on anyone, and she often skipped classes to earn a few hours’ worth of wages to buy food for her sister. Many nights she would starve and tie her belt tighter, but she never complained.

Then, she snapped. One night, after a round of heavy drinking, their father had burst into Yuu’s room and began beating her with a belt. It’d been the first time he was ever violent with her younger sister. While Naomi’s skin was littered with bruises and cuts, she painted them over with cheap paint she bought from the dollar store. _As long as Yuu is happy, then so am I_ , was what she said to herself.

Naomi did not have any bonds with their parents. They were merely the person who’d given her life, but not raised her. Her grandmother had been the one to teach her how to read, write, and even walk. Her parents weren’t there when she said her first words. They weren’t there when she walked her first steps. They were just another stranger in Naomi’s lives, one she sees on a daily basis, but never intimate enough to establish a relationship.

It had been late at night, and Naomi has yet to sleep. She was up looking through websites, searching for the newest job application she sent. The last one was rejected, so she was putting hope in the recent ones. Hearing the screams and thuds from the other room, she stood, the chair falling from its inertia. Naomi was small, but she wasn’t frail. Years of working odd jobs had gave her the strength she needed to pry their father away from her sobbing sister, then snapping his belt into half, and locked him out of the room, using her body to hold the door up.

“You okay?” Naomi asked, her violet eyes showing a rare sadness towards her sister. She rarely showed emotion outside kindness, and always kept it that way. Yuu nodded, shivering as she held her sides, curled up on the floor in fear. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you from now on.”

Naomi had been eighteen. She was of legal age, so she loaned some money from the bank and got an apartment. It wasn’t grand, and it could barely accommodate two people, but she made do. She helped Yuu move her belongings in the dark of night, while their parents were passed out on the couch, fast asleep.

Yuu was on her final year of school and had set her eyes onto one of the prestigious universities. With her outstanding grades and social status, she was able to secure herself for a scholarship in Europe, which Naomi supported with her soul. She worked harder, with longer shifts and a new job crammed into her break hours, all for her sister’s future. If she’s happy, then so was Naomi.

Then the unexpected happened. Yuu began meeting with the wrong crowd; drinking, gambling and even doing drugs, becoming another copy of their horrible parents. Naomi begged her to stop seeing them, but was met with a glare and a heartbreaking reply: _Stop fussing over me. You’re not my mom_. Yes, she wasn’t her mom, and they never had one. Naomi was forced to take up the role of a caregiver since a young age. Soon, Yuu stopped talking to her, and stole money from Naomi’s purse when she wasn’t looking. She confronted her about it, but Yuu had already spent it all on alcohol, claiming that she was making friends.

Crippled with debt, a straying sister, solitude and a sick body, and yet she still smiled. Her smile was gentler than the snow on flowers, but her eyes were no longer kind. They were dark, capable of flaying one alive. Bags constantly hung under her eyes, especially noticeable whenever she stayed up late, a candle by the table, staring at her bank account that was plummeting into the negatives.

“I’m just hanging out with my friends, Naomi! How could you understand? They cared about me when you didn’t!”

Yuu had come home, and instantly asked for money. It was an absurd amount, more than what Naomi could ever earn in a year. _Seventy million yen_ , she’d said, claiming that it was a small amount. Her new friends were all of higher wealth, and that bit of cash was nothing to them. Naomi, however, was failing to make ends meet. Their electricity was cut earlier this week, and she was trying to pay it back because Yuu needed the computer for her homework.

Naomi refused, telling her again that she was mixing in with the wrong crowd. She then brought up their parents, and telling her that Yuu was becoming like them.

“I’m not mom and dad! Sure, dad hit me once… but they’d give me what I want!”

“Yuu, everything they ever gave you was paid with _my_ money.”

“Then why couldn’t you give me what I want _now_?!”

Then, to Naomi’s shock, she pulled out a gun, the barrel aiming at her own head. Horrified, Naomi stood from the dining table, glaring at her sister. _Put it down_ , she’d said, her smile completely wiped from her face. Yuu was straying from the path that she was supposed to go on. She was falling faster than Naomi can catch. _Put. It. Down._

“You care about me, right? Then give me the money so I don’t pull the trigger!”

Yuu was not budging. So Naomi stormed over, pulled the gun away, only for Yuu to press down on the trigger at the very last second. The explosion of a gunshot echoed in the apartment, and a splash of blood painted the walls dark red.

Before Naomi fully passed on, all she heard were her sister’s friends congratulating her, and people ransacking her apartment, taking her sister away with them.

Yet, even if she wasn’t at fault, Naomi still had one last, conscious thought.

_I’m sorry, Yuu._

Instead of dying, her eyes would open to a world of magic. _O’ Heroes, please save our world!_ It was a new chance for her, a restart for life. As she was led towards the throne room through a tower, her eyes fell upon the gorgeous, sapphire seas; the scent of salt and summer. It was a place where Naomi would dream of bringing Yuu one day, but that life was over now, and she was in a world where she did not recognize.

“This is like a game,” Rin had said, the female wielding a sword. “Everything I ever played is on here.” She turned to Naomi. “How about you?”

Naomi shook her head, looking at the gentle shield that sat upon her arm. It glowed softly under the dark, her own reflection casting upon the surface. Her face was of someone she did not know. Weary and tired of the life she was given. “I didn’t play any games,” she admitted, looking away from her shield. “I remembered buying my sister the one she really wanted, before she killed me.”

Suki shook her head, crossing her arms as she sighed. “You mustn’t feel sorrow for them,” she said firmly. “One day, karma will to its job. You will be avenged, as you are reborn in this game world, after all.”

“Yeah!” Matoya nodded vigorously, lips forming a pout. “I hope those pigs who tried to commit double suicide with me die and rot in hell!”

While they were forming parties, Naomi already accepted the fact that she would be alone. While the others’ parties were filled to the brim with experienced adventurers, she stood silent and smiling, as if she were grateful that she was by herself. “I won’t be betrayed by anyone if there’s no one by my side,” she explained to Suki, who was concerned for her. “I don’t think I can bring myself to trust anyone just yet. Thanks for asking.”

Soon after purchasing armour for herself, she still kept her jacket, free of blood and the charred hole where she’d been shot: right in her heart. It was ironic, because she’d poured her heart and soul to provide her sister with everything she needed, only for her to stab her right where she offered it. It was a tragic ending, and Naomi couldn’t see others the same way again.

At the inn, she met with the Mai, an adventurer from Matoya’s party. They sat together and chatted for a while, with Naomi refusing his drink, which he smiled in understanding. After all, Melromarc is a matriarchal country. No men could force a woman to have a drink.

Then, soon after, Naomi found herself by the king’s feet, accused of human trafficking and attempted slavery of the prince. Whilst the other heroes tried to defend her, she was ultimately sentenced to exile. A hero with no attack couldn’t fight back, and that was what they thought. At least, they didn’t take in the matter of every hero’s passive, a hidden ability that was unique to each person. Naomi just happened to land on the one that would win the jackpot, in spite of having won nothing in her life.

_Thorned Armour: For every DEF the hero possesses, 50% of ATK will be granted to the hero’s stats permanently._

Naomi’s attack wasn’t near to the other Heroes, but she could take care of the monsters herself, with a bit more hassle and work. At least she could one-shot balloons and obtain useful scraps in return, then threaten the shop owner with live, chewing balloons that she gathered on her body, hidden under her cloak whenever they tried to scam her.

She saved up for a slave and bought one—a Tanuki boy with the name of Raph. He was frail and weak, almost looking like Yuu, when she was beaten up by their father. Naomi’s eyes darkened at the memory, her trust with the boy almost crippled, despite having never spoken a word to him.

“You’re my slave. You’re going to do everything I say, or I’m throwing you out,” she threatened sombrely, her hostile demeanour never flinching as she clothed him, fed him, and cured him of his sickness with various medicine and spells. Still, she did not sleep when he was awake, and didn’t eat when she left him with the food alone. She didn’t trust him; not one bit.

Eventually, Naomi saved up some more and bought a monster egg, which would hatch into a golden fillolial chick the size of her head. He must have thought Naomi’s choppy, messy hair had been his nest, because he claimed her head as his own swiftly.

“What will you name it, Master Naomi?”

Naomi stared at the chick in the mirror, which was still pecking at her scalp. “Milo,” she decided. “Let’s hope he can fight.”

Raph and Milo’s levels were still significantly lower than Naomi’s—with them being 12 and 1 each while Naomi’s at a solid 35—but the hard day of grinding managed to raise Raph’s levels by one, and Milo’s by 3. Naomi was coming close to 36, but she doubted she would reach it within the day. She retired early and rested well before the Waves would come.

Fast forward to the trial, the prince and the king were both outed as criminals and crimes against the Shield Hero. Naomi didn’t react when the guillotine sliced their heads off cleanly, their blood painting the stage red, nor did she utter a word when the Queen pushed a knife into her own abdomen, ending her life and leaving the kingdom in the hands of her young daughter.

“They had it coming,” Rin muttered, her face looking greener than usual.

None of the three heroes looked at Naomi. Aside from her demonic, sinister armour she donned, she hadn’t spoken a word ever since she witnessed the deaths of her party members. A black shield hung by her side, its usual purple jewel replaced by a dark blood red.

“Yes,” she said softly, much to their surprise. Her voice was hoarse, but there was a grin making its way up to her face. “They did.” Her defence was much higher than their attack stat combined, and her own attack stat was nothing to laugh at.

What a gamebreaking passive to have.

* * *

Naomi stared at the two across her, her hands holding a cup as she tried to keep a dull mask.

“… are you two _crying_?” she demanded, scandalized. It was _her_ tragic backstory, damnit! If anyone should cry about it, it’s her! Not the two lovebirds who were married to idiots each.

Sickle Naofumi wasn’t crying, but he was staring at her with wide eyes. Subconsciously, he held up a book, with a quill in hand. “A passive, you say?” he said, writing it down as if it was the end of the world. “Do you think it applies to our shields too? I don’t care about the attack, but if I can get one that enhances my spells—” He faltered. “What if it enhances the Waves I summon instead?”

Kitamura Naofumi whipped to him. “Why the hell would you summon a wave on purpose?!”

“Whenever I’m sick of Motoyasu trying to kill me!”

“But—”

Naomi leaned forward, suddenly interested. “You can summon a Wave?” she asked with wide eyes. “Teach me that spell _now_. The moment I get back, I’m summoning the Waves straight in Melromarc!”

“HELL NO!” Kitamura Naofumi blurted. “NO ONE IS SUMMONING ANYTHING!”

“Come on! If you were me, you’d totally be so done with that kingdom.”

Kitamura Naofumi turned to her. “I declared war on them for, like, five times. Don’t tell me what I’m done with.”

Naomi, Kitamura and Sickle argued for the rest of the night. It was a few hours without responsibilities, the weight of their past, the horror of their own capabilities haunting them. It was a good moment, before Naomi stood again, turning back to the forest.

“Where are you going?” Kitamura Naofumi asked, genuinely worried. “This world still hates the Shield Hero because of a rape accusation. Showing your face anywhere isn’t a good idea.”

Naomi nodded. “I’m used to being despised and alone,” she said. “And not in the angsty, emo character way. I’m just more comfortable with it.”

Sickle Naofumi didn’t turn from his book. “That’s exactly what you are.”

Before Naomi left, she was sure to throw a nearby rock straight to the back of Sickle Naofumi’s head, which the stone shattered into pieces. Despite her high attack power, it wasn’t meant to be an attack.

Smiling, she disappeared into the dark forest, her black, sinister armour blending in with the darkness.


	6. Purefumi's (mis)Adventures

“It’s been one day,” Naofumi scorned, glaring at the blacksmith with his eyes fuelled by hatred. “ _One_ day.”

Erhart shrugged, looking more confused than Naofumi is. He crossed his burly arms across his chest, his leather apron hanging down to his waist, still covered in soot and smoke from the earlier crafts. “I don’t know, kid,” he said sceptically. “Trouble seems to follow you around these days, doesn’t it?”

Naofumi scowled, his eyes fixed on the wooden counter. He didn’t trust his mouth, as he was only seconds away from losing his shit. “It’s another false lie spreading around,” he snapped. “Another attempt to drag my name through the mud.”

Filo, who’d been standing by Naofumi’s side, furrowed her blonde eyebrows as she didn’t understand her Master’s words. Why was Master so angry? Filo pulled at his cape, getting his attention. Naofumi looked down to her, looking rather irritated, his hostility barely masked, but Filo didn’t mind.

“Master?” she asked innocently, ignoring the dark look on his face. “What lie are you and bald guy talking about?”

Erhart, bless his soul, ignored the nickname. “Well, you see, Shield Bro here is accused of another crime,” he answered, understanding that Naofumi did not trust himself to answer. “Word’s going around the street saying that the Shield Devil is going around raiding villages and taming dragons.”

“Boo!” Filo stuck her tongue out, her expression scrunched into one of disgust. “Master would never get a dragon! Right, Master?” She pulled at his cloak some more, shuffling the man’s collar, the fur brushing on his neck like an inanimate kitten.

Naofumi’s hand reached down to Filo’s head, giving it a small pat. “Don’t be daft,” he answered, scoffing.

Well, the rumours aren’t exactly false. At the very least, Pedoyasu isn’t having a good time finding out the truth.

* * *

“YUKIIIIIII! KUROOO! SAKURAAAA!” Pedoyasu whined, rushing like an ostrich down the hill, his arms outstretched as if he were looking for a heartfelt hug from his comrades, which were three oversized mass of feathers. Purefumi, who’d been napping in Sakura’s huge fluff, screamed as the Fillolial bolted from the blond hero at full speed, barely taking into consideration that her master was still on her, very much terrified and awake. Sakura didn’t stop, despite Yuki’s shouts and Kuro’s bellowing laughter, and even with Pedoyasu’s desperate cries of: _Father!_

If Purefumi hadn’t had his _Perfect Balance_ ability, he would begin projectile vomiting over Sakura’s feathers. Fortunately, he did not. Eventually, after moments of running, Sakura finally calmed down, and transformed back to her human form. Purefumi fell to the ground in a heap, landing on his back with a thud.

“Naofumi.” Sakura crouched down to her favourite hero, reaching out her hand and finger. She repeatedly poked Purefumi’s arm, calling out his name again and again as she waited for a response. “Naofumi… wake up.”

Purefumi grunted, staring at the young, strawberry blonde fillolial with an exasperated expression. No matter how much she would be clingy, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. Aside from Pedoyasu and Éclair, she might be the only person (monster?) he could truly trust, in spite of her aloof and indifferent personality.

Pedoyasu finally caught up to them, with Yuki and Kuro hot on his tails. “Father!” he exclaimed, sweat running down his forehead, spear in hand. “Are you alright? Are you wounded? Do you need me to cast some healing spells?”

“No, I’m fine,” Purefumi replied, sitting up. He checked his status, and his health bar was barely scathed. It was a possibility that he didn’t take any damage at all, as he had many unrealized potential from power-levelling for weeks. “Just a bit shocked.” He turned to Sakura, who was staring at him with her diamond eyes. Her mouth stretched into a small smile as he wasn’t wounded, and it grew wider when Purefumi put his hand on her head.

Sakura giggled giddily as she leaned into Purefumi’s touch, practically melting at the slightest bit of affection. _Were all fillolials this touch-starved?_ It could explain Yuki’s unexplainable sense of justice to prove herself worthy of Pedoyasu’s attention, even for the most trivial acts. While Sakura pined for Purefumi, Yuki did for Pedoyasu. As for Kuro, he was neutral, but it wasn’t wrong to say he was more loyal towards his original master.

Purefumi glanced upwards to Pedoyasu. He was screaming before, but why? There were only few things that could scare Pedoyasu, and it could be counted with only one hand. Purefumi getting hurt, his fillolials getting hurt, and…

“There were dragons up there, Yuki!” Pedoyasu wailed, already holding the fillolial close to him, rubbing her cheeks with his. If Purefumi didn’t know any better, he would report this as sexual harassment of a minor. But the only thing that Purefumi could use to describe Yuki’s face right now, was pure bliss. “It was so scary! Every inch of my body’s itching!”

It can’t be that bad, right? Purefumi’s seen griffins and dragons up close, but they didn’t attack him. In fact, they took one glance at him, scoffed and snorted, then turned around, tails nearly missing Purefumi. Pedoyasu does seem to have an inexplicable hatred and disgust for the reptiles. Still, he was willing to set aside his own fear and put Purefumi’s wellbeing before his, even for a moment. For that, Purefumi was grateful.

“A dragon, you say?” Purefumi repeated, glancing at the hill that Pedoyasu had rampaged from. “How high of a level did it have? Wild ones are pretty rare.”

“Hm.” Pedoyasu momentarily stopped rubbing Yuki’s scent all over him and paused to recall the brief moment of encountering the monster. (Yuki complained at this, but they ignored her for the time being.) “It was a weak dragon, but to the Heroes of this world, it’s considered a Boss-level monster.” He frowned, thinking back further to the time before he’d died. “I think Ren defeated it once, but it caused a plague. So you, Father, took up the task of removing the plague gloriously! It’s a truly heroic action, Father!”

Purefumi followed his frown, taking his hand off Sakura’s head in shock. “A plague?” he repeated. “How does killing a dragon cause a plague?”

Pedoyasu didn’t hesitate to respond this time. “I do not remember, Father!” he said it as if it was something to be proud of: a memory so scattered that you wouldn’t remember your name in a few days. It was certainly not something to be rejoiced.

Purefumi thinks hard. A day ago, he met his counterpart, who was the version that ended up betrayed and without help. If he was as bad as Pedoyasu said he was, then he shouldn’t have gone to dispose of a plague for villagers so easily. He must have done it with a cost. Still, no matter how Purefumi mulls over their brief conversation, it’s difficult for him to believe that he, despite his scowling and “resting bitch face”, is a horrible person. He looks tired, not someone who would exploit bandits.

He could be wrong, but he could tell that he was a good person, whether if they shared the same face or not.

A plague, huh? They were free, and had nothing to do. If a killing a dragon causes a plague, which would irritate a nearby village, then they should at least do something about it. He didn’t like to see people suffering when he could have done something to help in the first place.

“Hey, Motoyasu?”

Pedoyasu stopped from doting over the fillolial queen. “Yes, Father?”

“We’re going to stop that dragon before it causes that plague.”

He swore he could see the blood drain from Pedoyasu’s face, before it returned with a passion. There were fire burning in his eyes, and this time, it was for hatred. Yuki, Kuro and Sakura were scowling at the mention of a dragon, with Sakura’s fingers curling, ready to exchange her dainty form for a bag of feathers and claws any moment.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the world, Father!”

And thus they set off to handle a dragon that would be the upbringing of a plague.

They didn’t count for a fact that they would find a human instead. There was a woman with jet black hair, even darker than Naofumi’s own, leaning on the dragon’s body, her hands tucked behind her head. She wore demonic armour, with spikes protruding from both her shoulder pads, intruding the way of a dark green cloak.

She appeared to be dazing, her eyes fixed to the sky and the warm sunlight that draped on her. There were heavy bags under her eyes, her skin unusually pale. Her jawline was the sharpest that Purefumi had ever seen.

_Don’t tell me…_

“She does not look like a pig,” Pedoyasu whispered, hiding in a bush. There were white feathers in his hair and ponytail, presumably Yuki’s. “She looks like…” He turned to Purefumi, eyes widening. “You, Father! She looks like you. Oh, she looks stunning, just as you would, but I prefer my beloved fillolials instead!”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Purefumi whispered harshly, sincerely hoping that the man did not just call him _stunning_.

“Nothing, Father!”

The woman turned to them instantly, her deathly gaze locked onto them. “Who’s there?” she demanded, standing up. “If you’re here to take this dragon, I suggest you leave!” She burst into a torrent of violet flames, the ground scorched with her every step.

What the heck? Where do the other versions of him even get such power?

Purefumi shot up abruptly, holding his hands out. “Calm down!” he blurted, watching her expression shift to one of surprise, but not disbelief. “You’re a Shield Hero… _ine_ , aren’t you? We’re the same as you. We got transported here too!”

The flames died down, like a candle in a winter’s night. Her hands were coated in the same crimson armour, her fingers worn like dragon claws.

“You’re not from this world too?” she asked. “Do you have an explanation why I am here?”

Purefumi shook his head, putting his hands down. “No,” he confessed. “We’re just as confused as you are. I met with the other us who’s from this world, and he’s also clueless about this.” He froze, before holding out his hand. “This is odd, but I’m Iwatani Naofumi, twenty-years-old. And you?”

She stared at his hand for a moment, her eyes clouding over, as if she was wary of poison. Gradually, she took it, and shook his hand stiffly. Despite her flames from before, and the dark colour baking under the sun, her hand felt cold. Unnaturally cold. Enough to make Purefumi shiver.

“Iwatani Naomi,” she introduced herself, a brief smile creeping onto her face. Compared to their supposed “Demon Lord”, she looked more of the role than any of them. Perhaps she had suffered a far more tragic fate, but he didn’t want to pry. “I’m twenty-two.”

Oh. So she was older than him. Was she summoned to her world later than he was, or she already survived two years after the summoning? Speaking of which, she possessed a stronger build and is taller than him, which only ticked him off. Is he always doomed to be the short one? The epitome of _short jokes_?

He was so distraught he’d forgotten about the sleeping dragon nearby, every breath fuming with smoke from its nostrils as it exhaled. Naomi, as kind faced as she was, didn’t notice his odd sadness. The Shield of Wrath had long taken over, and forbidden her to feel any emotion other than resentment and regret. She was as oblivious as Purefumi was confused of Pedoyasu’s Fillolial Obsession.

“If you’re here to kill the dragon, don’t bother,” Naomi said suddenly, as if reminding him of his task. “The Sword Hero’s on… _their_ way. Attracting too much attention to yourself isn’t exactly the best decision.”

“But wouldn’t the dragon cause a plague?”

Naomi burst into laughter. “Oh, no. Zombie Dragons, yes, when their body is left out to rot. But no one’s stupid enough to let it stay here, right? Even a kid knows that meat rots when left out for too long!” Despite her wrath, she still had a sense of humour. Even more than any of the Three Stooges. “You can calm down. The dragon’s a pretty nice guy, and I don’t think Gaelion appreciates being killed by a mere human.”

“Gaelion? He has a name?”

The woman turned to him, her eyebrow raised as if _he_ were the insane one. “Are you for real?” she barked, looking at him like he’d walked into a gunfight holding a knife. “Is every version of me this stupid? If so, I’d rather kill myself than associate myself with any of you.”

She wasn’t in any position to talk, because she looked like the devil themselves. Purefumi didn’t point that out, because the spikes on her shoulder and the claws on her fingers looked sharp enough to cut through his high defence stat.

Purefumi noticed that she’d been alone, whereas their counterpart had been accompanied by a demihuman and a Fillolial. He himself was with Pedoyasu and three Fillolials. “So, you’re travelling alone? No party members?”

Naomi shook her head. For a moment, her eyes clouded over, as if reminding herself that she didn’t have the luxury. “Unlike you lot who can’t even touch a balloon, I’m fine alone,” she said, her tone depreciating of their social life and status alike.

Even if they were the same person, Purefumi can’t help but feel a jab in his self-esteem.

It would be outlandish if a Shield Hero could attack at all, but by the looks of her armour, it wasn’t as far-fetched as he originally thought it was. A balloon could be attacking her and accidentally fall on her spikes and pop.

“But hey, who am I to judge?”

_No one, woman. No one_.

“Hey, you want to blow a church up?”

_Why is everyone obsessed with blowing things up!? Is it in the Shield Hero agenda or something? Did I miss anything because Pedoyasu kept dragging me to Siltvelt??_

Purefumi couldn’t keep his silence any longer. “What’s with the Three Heroes Church?” he demanded. “I know they did bad things, but blowing them up in broad daylight seems a bit too—”

“Were you in candyland or something? They tried to kill _me_! They tried to kill _us_! In different worlds, nonetheless!” she exploded, grabbing the collar of his jacket. Her eyes slid towards the glaring Spear Hero, who was still hiding in the bush, hissing and glaring like a cat. “Oh,” she said, voice laced with sudden understanding. “I bet your baby hubby took care of them for you. Why the hell are you acting like a damsel in distress?!”

From a distance, someone shouted, “DID SOMEONE MENTION BLOWING UP A CHURCH?”

“HELL YES!”

It didn’t take long for Purefumi to realize who they were. Because seconds later, Naomi and the Queen left to administer some painful bombs and punches to the stupid Pope they so hated.

… what the fuck.

“Father!” Pedoyasu gasped, standing up. “You mustn’t curse! You must remain as a pure, untainted virgin!”

_Since when does being a virgin fit into all of this?!_

“I—how do you even know I was cursing?”

“Of course I know, Father! I keep a very strict eye on you.”

Without a word, Purefumi sprinted towards the dragon without looking back. Pedoyasu screamed. “Father!? What are you doing?!”

Purefumi called out to the dragon: “Hey, Gay-lion or whatever your name is! Please eat me!”

“FATHER, NO—”


	7. The One Thing All Shields Have In Common (Trauma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purefumi: I've only met these idiots for one day *points at Naomi, Kitamura and Sickle* and I will kill them and then our canon version if they don't stop talking about my height.

In the forest, there was a cult— _group_ , sitting in a semicircle. They sat around a lead figure in black, obsidian demonic armour, who was the leader of the anxious, dysfunctional, mismatched gathering. Some sat on their knees, some leaned back on trees, and some just laid down.

“Alright!” Naomi called, rounding up the Naofumis at once, all but the canon version. “Listen up, punks! Do we have any questions before we storm that stupid castle like bosses? Speak now before we march to our deaths!” She caught Purefumi raising his hand. “Anyone but you!”

Purefumi lowered his hand.

Kitamura Naofumi raised his. “What are we doing again?”

An empty crate slammed into his face. No one spoke up again. Who agreed for the demonic version of them to lead? Probably because all of them were tired of being the leader or just didn’t care. Besides, most of them had a grudge with Melromarc, mostly because of Trash and Bitch, but also settling some petty matters. Sickle Naofumi was here because he wanted to smite the guard who mocked his spells for being weak.

Naomi continued her speech. “WHAT ARE WE?”

“Traumatized?” Kitamura Naofumi muttered.

“Depressed?” Purefumi wisped.

“In need of therapy?” Sickle Naofumi seethed.

“YES!” Naomi didn’t even bat an eyelid, because they were all true. “But we were framed just because we became the Shield Hero!” She threatened to throw another crate at anyone who said otherwise. Out of all of them, she was the only one that unlocked the Cursed Series and tapped into its darkness without regard. When all of this was over, someone was going to need to drag her depressed ass to a psychiatrist. “We will get our revenge this moment, and slam those bastards into the dirt as they kneel before us!”

Purefumi shuddered. Why was every version of him so scary? He wanted to go back to Siltvelt and bury himself in his bed while Motoyasu kicked women out of his baths and room. It was a much better fate than handling these villains.

Sickle Naofumi raised his hand. “What if this isn’t the right way?”

Purefumi shot to him, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He was glad that he wasn’t the only one that felt this way.

Naomi tilted her head. “And what are you suggesting?”

Sickle Naofumi smiled. “I could just summon a Wave.”

He takes it back! Did none of them have common sense?! Is he even supposed to be in this meeting?!

“We can use the confusion to infiltrate the castle!” Sickle Naofumi continued, being more enthusiastic than they’d ever saw him. “While Bitch is out fighting the Wave with Motoyasu, we can kill the damn king and the guards while we’re at it!”

Does this person have a personal vendetta against the royal guard? It wouldn’t be surprising.

“But they’ll attack us too,” Kitamura Naofumi said, being the only voice of reason at the moment. Purefumi might have encountered similar fates as him, but their mindsets (after vastly different events branched from similar occurrences, like how marrying Motoyasu ended up getting Takt kidnapping him because he assumed he was a woman.) were also different as night and day. Kitamura had a chance to be deranged in a subtle way. “Naomi’s the only one that can attack. She can’t fend them all off.”

“Actually, monsters don’t attack me,” Naomi clarified. “I get EXP by killing people.”

Purefumi tried to hold in a scream. He was in a group of _murderers_! Given different circumstances and his own, it wasn’t far-fetched as to why she would claim herself to be a demon. She already had the look. She could practically stab someone’s eyes out with that jawline.

“Huh. That’s strange.” Kitamura raised his shield, checking his stats. “I unlocked a curse series once, but my attack is still zero.”

Naomi stared at him. “What about your passive?”

Everyone exchanged information like a nerd group talking about their anime waifus. Purefumi and Kitamura relayed information of Smelting, Energy Transfer, Rarity and Weapon Duplication. Naomi taught (read: punched) them about passives and their uniqueness. Sickle explained how to bypass the _no attack_ rule with different spells.

“You mean to tell me you can learn _Fast Fireball_ by tricking your brain that you want to start a _fire_?” Kitamura demanded, flipping furiously through different grimoires. “I could have set those councilmen on fire all this time!”

Sickle jotted down all the methods and possible combinations. “You have to focus on their clothes,” he said. “As for Earth hole, you have to do it _below_ the ground, but thin enough for the enemy to fall through it with their bodyweight.”

Purefumi looked through his stats, and there was a new line of words that ran through his information. It was new, as it hadn’t been there before, and a star next to it, highlighting it as important.

 **PASSIVE  
** Energy Field: _Allies within a 500-metre radius will receive a buff of 30% on all stats_.

That was a powerful passive! If everyone had one, then they would be walking gods of the Earth. He wasn’t affected by his own passive, but if Motoyasu happened to be near him, he would be adding more numbers to his already-high attack. They would _shred_ through their enemies like paper, and his allies as of now were all Shield Heroes of different worlds, all defence-orientated fighters. Accompanied with Naomi’s attack, Sickle’s magic, Kitamura’s mid-ranged abilities and his defence, they were a strong team.

Kitamura was silent all this time, staring intensely at his shield. Then, he spoke up, eyes blank as he turned to the rest of them.

“We broke the system,” he muttered, shield changing to different variations. “This can’t be allowed.”

More like, they broke Kitamura’s understanding of the whole world and gave him existential crisis.

Now that Naomi’s learned all of the strengthening methods, she looked even _more_ sinister, if that were possible. Her armour glinted with magic, and purple lines ran through every crevice. The spikes looked sharper. She was laughing maniacally at herself, thinking of all the ways she was going to fuck people up.

Purefumi turned to Sickle, who was the only functioning member left. “What passive did you get?” Other than the strengthening methods, the passive was the one that was diverse. “Mine allows me to buff nearby allies.”

Sickle turned to him, shrugging. He adjusted his glasses and lowered his shield. “ _Monster Ally_. Monsters lower levelled than me will listen to me and do my bidding, especially the ones I summoned.”

 _Ones I summoned_.

Hold up.

Does this mean—

“I’m immune to the Wave Monsters,” Sickle said, eyes widening. “I can summon a Wave and let them shred Trash to pieces!”

“We’re still here, you know!” Purefumi snapped.

Kitamura’s passive, which he explained after his stupor, was _Enemy Ground_ , which gave him a 200-metre radius of de-buffing enemy’s stats, a complete opposite of Purefumi’s _Energy Field_. With all their powerups and passives combined, they were practically unkillable.

“ALRIGHT, BOYS!” Naomi declared, standing up. The cursed shield on her arm was even more ominous than before. “We ride at dawn! They can’t stop all of us!”

It was evening, anyway—wait, was that a reference from somewhere?

“Why dawn?” Sickle asked.

Naomi shrugged. “Because some of us want to _eat_?”

* * *

Sadly, Purefumi and Kitamura were paying for all of their expenses. 1) they were lords of Siltvelt, which meant they had unlimited budget; 2) Naomi is broke beyond compare, because she spends all her money in refining her demon-like armour; and 3) Sickle’s married to a king from another world, so the coins are unusable.

Even going to a restaurant dinner was an exhausting task, because they all had the same faces, save for Naomi, who was the tallest among them; so they had to go around in hoods like discount Wedis from War Stars. At some point, they found Sickle staring at hot adventurers, even though he’s a married man.

“Remain faithful to your bloody husband, you cheater!”

Sickle turned to Naomi. “He burned my books! I’m still mad at him!”

“Oh my god. We’re the reason why our worlds still exist, and you’re mad about pieces of _paper_.”

Kitamura shot Sickle a strange look. “If I were you, I’d go out with _Takt_.”

Purefumi screamed inside. Why were they talking about this anyway? Does Kitamura have a crush on his kidnapper? Isn’t this Stockholm syndrome or whatever it’s called? Did he need to summon a therapist for him? Why was he included in this conversation!?

If there was one thing they all shared, it was they hated food. Not in the _ew, it looks horrible_ way, but in the _oh my god, there’s probably poison in it_ or _it tastes like my dead grandmother’s belly lint because I’m cursed_. They still ate anyway, because none of them were suited to cook. Kitamura and Purefumi couldn’t cook because they suffering from existential crisis each, Naomi’s cursed prevented her to compound or cook, and Sickle has never touched a ladle in his life.

It was amazing how all of them survived this long.

Eventually, they settled for sending Naomi out to buy takeaway food, because she’s the least recognizable person out of all of them. She ended up returning soaked in blood and grinning like she’s won the lottery.

“What the fuck?” Kitamura demanded.

“A guard recognized me and tried to kill me.”

“So you killed him?”

“So what? No one would believe the Shield Hero can attack anyway.”

Somewhere, across the continent, was the canon Iwatani Naofumi. He sneezed abruptly as he filled up a bowl of broth for the Tanuki across him. _I swear if someone’s talking shit behind my back—wait Filo don’t learn that word—oh my god_ no—

“Not wrong,” Sickle agreed. “So, what’d you get?”

“Three kid’s meals and an adult one, because all of you are fucking childish.”

Purefumi screamed inside once more. It was a miracle his insides haven’t burst.

* * *

“I want one answer.”

“Hmm.”

“How are you _drunk_?”

Purefumi whipped to Kitamura, his face red with drunkenness. “Hmm? I’m not— _drunk_ ,” he said, offended. “I’m just a bit… tired.”

Kitamura grabbed Purefumi’s collar. They were wearing the same jacket. “You’re the Shield Hero! You’re not meant to get _drunk_!” he spat. “What the hell did you even have? Lucor fruits? They don’t even affect us!”

“Maybe I wanna get drunk,” Purefumi defended sloppily. “Y’all are fucking insane and I don’t get paid enough to deal with this shit.”

“WHY DO YOU ONLY SWEAR WHEN YOU’RE INTOXICATED? ARE YOU AN ANGRY DRUNK OR SOMETHING?”

“Nahhhh bloody hell man; fuck you, fuck the scary lady, fuck Siltvelt, fuck the Wave maniac that acts like Megumin, fuck our canon version, fuck you, fuck humans, fuck demihumans, fuck this world— _peace_.”

Purefumi passed out on the floor.

From the campfire, Naomi snorted so hard she popped the balloon she just caught.

 _*Note: Naomi also brought back lucor fruits. Purefumi has the rare ability to turn off [Perfect Balance] whenever he wants to_.

* * *

 _*Note 2: Naomi is 183cm, Sickle and Kitamura are 174, Purefumi is 163_.

During a battle against extremists from the Three Heroes church, Naomi barely gave a second thought as she dove straight into the midst of their ranks, with Kitamura and Sickle following suit. As Purefumi changed his shield, he joined the battle, but was held back by Sickle.

“Leave this to the adults.”

 _*Note 3: Naomi is 23, Kitamura is 26, Sickle is 30, Purefumi 20_.

Purefumi screamed inside.

“I HATE ALL OF YOU!”

And maybe on the outside.

* * *

Sickle ended up getting into a fight at the bookstore in town.

Why, you ask? Well, he caught the librarian categorizing the books wrong, and had a whole rant about it. He had to be dragged out by Naomi, who was their not so impulse controlled impulse-control. When he was being pulled away, he was still giving a whole 10-page thesis about the importance of books and categorizing.

He may have lost the battle, but he will not lose the war. At least, that’s what he claimed. Purefumi caught him organizing a whole thesis paper that added up to 200 pages after he woke up in the morning.

* * *

Naomi may be a deranged killer with a screw loose, but she was still feminine in her own right. When she wasn’t wearing her armour (which was rare, Kitamura saw her sleep in it and managed to avoid impaling herself on the spikes) she wore her black shirt and leggings from her world. The jacket that looked like theirs was burned to rags, so she’d thrown it away. She looked great in them, honestly, especially with her shirt now looking like a crop top because of her newly gained height and muscles, but no one dared to say it to her face.

If it weren’t for the massive _Shield of Wrath_ on her arm, she looked completely normal. Even more than Purefumi and Kitamura.

That thought lasted for three seconds, because she got into an argument with a shopkeeper that hit on her, then she burned the whole thing down with cursed flames.

… there were no objections, because that creep had it coming.

* * *

Kitamura opened the curtains dramatically. “I AM BUYING EVERY SLAVE YOU HAVE!” The light poured in the slave trader’s tent, causing the trader to yelp in shock.

He dumped a whole carriage of gold, Siltvelt coins in front of him, and bought the entire place itself. He set the slaves free to Siltvelt soon after. The circus was also transformed into a museum to mock Bitch and Trash, featuring realistic projections of their humiliations from his world.

Suffice to say, the museum got shut down, but he had his laugh.

_*Note 3: Kitamura Naofumi is so bloody rich he could use gold coins as confetti at his wedding. He did, at one point, but only to throw them at Ren’s face when he caught him laughing._

* * *

Naofumi was not having a good day, because the rumours were getting out of hand.

He did not go to a library to start an argument, nor did he kill someone, nor did he burn down a shop, nor did he take over the slave market. These all happened in one single day, where Naofumi could barely catch up on his sleep.

For the love of—

“Shit!” Filo giggled, and ran away from Naofumi.

Naofumi sighed so heavily it could weigh him into the ocean. For now, he had a party member to scold.

* * *

_Somewhere, in the universe…_

“I fucking hate this world,” Faubley Naofumi growled, stepping on bloodied corpse.


	8. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purefumi (aka the Naofumi with Pedoyasu) is now named as Iwatani.

“I’m still saying we should teleport to that shitty throne room and burn that shitty king to ashes.”

“And help start a war against this world’s Shield Hero? No thank you.”

“We’d be doing him a favour. You spent your life with pretty little maids serving you at your every whim. What do _you_ know about Melromarc?”

Sickle Naofumi turned to the demon lord and the innocent hero. “Alright, break it up!” he snapped impatiently, holding a book that had the weight of a dictionary. “You’ve been at it for two hours. Just because we’re Shield Heroes doesn’t mean our patience is as thick as our defence!”

Kitamura Naofumi glanced over from his sleeping bag. “They’re entertaining; to say the least,” he admitted, stoking the fire with a stick. Out of all of them, he seemed to be the only collected individual. He was the lord of Siltvelt for years, after all. Losing his temper would be equivalent to waging a war.

Naomi and Iwatani glared at each other, which was new, because throughout their entire meeting, they’ve never seen Iwatani step out the line or wish another a horrendous fate. To suggest the event of Iwatani arguing with _Naomi_ was already outlandish as it is.

“I hate to be the _one_ ,” Sickle Naofumi said, closing his book sombrely. “But it appears that there is an ancient dragon roaming through town.”

No one believed him and continued doing their own thing. Kitamura pulled the blanket over his head and called it a night. Iwatani apologized to Naomi for his outburst with a bow. Naomi scoffed and crossed her arms but accepted the apology anyway. It was amazing that no one committed arson, though that statement might be directed towards a specific hero.

If it hadn’t been for the loud roar and the ground quaking beneath their feet, they wouldn’t have turned their attention towards the direction of the town. A random, hard-shelled fruit fell from the tree and onto Kitamura’s head. He released a loud torrent of curses that must have been derived from Siltvelt, because no one’s ever heard of _hairless humans and their non-furry heads_ used as an insult.

Naomi and Iwatani shot to their feet, alarmed.

“What is with dragons lately?” Iwatani muttered, having met another dragon in the span of three days. Dragons were said to be rare, weren’t they? Did a travelling group of Shield Heroes happen to serve as a lure for every rare monster to jump them? He knew from Motoyasu that he had a natural affinity to attract monsters and animals alike, which was why he could level faster than the average adventurer; but if it applied to every single one of them, they were sitting catnip for cats. Very dangerous cats.

Naomi wasn’t opposed to dragons. In fact, Iwatani saw her with one a few days ago, before they met up with Kitamura and Sickle. She also said monsters didn’t attack her either, but that was her alone. If the dragon was a lower level than Sickle, then he would be safe from the dragon as well—but Kitamura and Iwatani were still dragon chow.

“Sounds familiar,” Naomi admitted. “I think I’ve heard it before, back in my world. It destroyed dozens of cities before it died out of the blue.”

Kitamura groaned, pulling the blanket off him. “Is it female? Is Takt nearby or what?”

Sickle grunted. “Can we stay out of this?”

“I wish we could,” Naomi muttered, now staring straight at the dragon. It was looking at their area, and it came closer to them and the lake. “Yeah. I recognize it.” She squinted. “In my world, I unsealed it because it was trapped for centuries and it was in pain. Almost stepped on me, though.”

Everyone turned to her. A dragon that large and dangerous, and _she_ unsealed it? Just like Motoyasu having an affection for filolials, Naomi looked to have a soft spot for dragons. If those two met each other, they would start World War DvF (Dragon vs Filolial). Only Naomi was neutral and calmer.

“You just let an ancient creature destroy the lands?” Kitamura demanded.

“It wasn’t always so bitter. Being sealed away for hundreds of years can change a dragon.” There was an edge to her voice, like they were no longer talking about dragons. It was something on a personal level. “Anyway, it’s coming close,” she continued, raising her shield. It had changed to a massive rectangle ballistic shield, almost surpassing her height. “Let’s head out before—”

A carriage burst from the woods, charging straight between their group and almost running Sickle over. They stared wide-eyed at the tracks in the road, the ruined campfire and the runaway wagon, with lights hanging behind the carriage’s back, as if they were deliberately leading something towards them. It didn’t take long for them to figure out what they were hoping to achieve, because the dragon’s roar grew louder and its footsteps disturbed the balance of the ground.

Naomi swivelled towards the dragon, now leering only a few feet from them. Its height easily matched a palace’s tower, albeit a shorter one. Its hide was covered by traces of metal, the stench of its flesh rotting and poisonous. It’s a dragon that’s been sealed away for generations, finally set free and it was out for vengeance, but the people it was looking to enact their revenge were no longer here.

And on that wagon, that light from before, glowed bright green reflected by a metallic surface.

Iwatani’s eye twitched. “It’s him,” he muttered. “The Shield Hero from this world.” He met him before, when they first came to this world. Since then, Motoyasu and the filolials split up due to Iwatani’s request. Naofumi still doesn’t know of any of the others’ existences. At least, he didn’t think so.

Sickle adjusted his glasses, squinting at the wagon. All of them were indifferent to the dragon stomping towards them, but Iwatani was not. He looked practically dead inside, with his spirit exiting his body, bewildered by the audacity of his counterparts.

“So, um,” Kitamura muttered, barely acknowledging the thundering roars overhead. “What should we do?”

They simultaneously glanced towards the lake. The carriage had come to a standstill, and they haven’t been noticed. Damn, it’s either the Shield Hero of this world was really unobservant, or their stealth skills were off the charts—of which _some_ of them had _none_.

Turning towards the dragon, Naomi noted that it was gaining speed, as it’s seen his stationary prey. It screeched, wobbling unsteadily towards the sole Shield Hero’s party.

“What level was it?” Sickle asked. “If it’s lower than mine, I can control i—”

Naomi cut him off. “Even it was, you’d get stepped on.” They all knew Sickle has the lowest level out of all of them, and the lowest defence. He compensated for magic and support, but he definitely wasn’t someone who should be in front of them, ironically. In fact, Naomi’s damage stat was so absurdly psychotic that they could just launch her into their enemy with a catapult while watching her descent with ray bands. If there was one thing they agreed on, it was the retribution their abusers were always satisfying to watch.

For a split second, no one picked up the conversation. They all looked at each other with uneasy expressions, as if they were hesitant to betray their morals, but one of their counterparts were going up against that same opponent. What if they helped, and hindered his growth? Besides, Iwatani might have met them, but the others haven’t. He knew Naofumi wouldn’t take well to the fact that two of his doppelgangers were married men, considering his clear distaste for strangers was prominent.

“I think we should stay out of this,” Iwatani said, shocking them all. Naomi shifted uncomfortably in her armour. Out of their group, he was the most kind-hearted one. It was no surprise that the others would raise an eyebrow to his words. “I mean, the Waves here are only at the second stage. He hasn’t been in his world as long as us.”

_If we help, he can’t survive the future he’s going to face_.

They knew being the Shield Hero meant drawing the short end of the stick. They were doomed to suffer and walk the path that was hidden beneath the wreath of roses, standing on crown of thorns with bare feet. Helping him in this moment meant they would be concealing the horrors of the world from him, by giving him a sliver of hope that ended fruitless and bitter.

A roar from the dragon wasn’t loud anymore. It was background noise, faded into the ringing of their ears. No one raised their eyes, as if reminiscing their hardships in the past. While there were plenty of painful memories, there were also fragments of happiness—some less than others. Some happy memories have been transformed, twisted into dark blades that cut deep.

Then, out of the blue, Naomi abruptly charged forward after a mere glance. The shield on her arm burned bright violet, the shape changing into a rectangle, nearly surpassing her height. Kitamura called her name out of shock, ditching his blanket completely and shooting to his feet.

“Guess we know what we’re doing,” Sickle muttered, raising his grimoire as the two others stared at him as if he’s gone crazy.

* * *

The dragon’s foot leered over Raphtalia, her eyes widening in shock as she lowered her sword. She could hear Master Naofumi screaming her name, Filo and Melty’s horrified cries, all happening at once as the shadow loomed over her like a cloud of death. A certainty of pain with a side of raccoon pancakes.

“Raphtalia!” Naofumi screamed, already running towards her, but he couldn’t make it. He was too far.

Everything turned dark, and she squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her sword as she waited for the final moment—

Her ears perked to the dragon’s roar instead, the ground quaking as the heat of fire blasted in her face.

There was a stranger standing in front of her, and a massive sea of lavender flames covering the dragon’s body. The size of the fire could easily reduce a forest to ashes in seconds. The stranger had a cloak, but it wasn’t Naofumi’s. It was indigo, billowing from the spiked pads on their shoulder. The heat of the flames was familiar, like a feverish nightmare she experienced, but a hundred times worse and realistic.

It was _that_ time again, only so much terrifying. In the past, it had been a zombie dragon with Master Naofumi snapping for the very first time, engulfed by the cursed fires that would consume him. The same thing was happening, but the fires have already burned its wielder into ashes, leaving only the charred shell behind.

This wasn’t Master Naofumi, but someone else. Someone who wielded the same cursed power, only stronger.

The dragon roared, but out of pain. It stumbled, taking its foot off the stranger, and wobbling backwards as it threw its tail and head around in pain. Amongst its confusion, its spiked tail swept the premises, aiming straight for the three. Naofumi raised his shield, cursing as his skills were in cooldown, but there was no need for action. A bright blue shield, similar to Naofumi’s _Air Strike Shield_ , materialized mere feet away from the tail, and it slammed into the shield as if slamming into metal.

The floating shield didn’t budge, but it was cracking. Naofumi had no time to reconsider, holding up his shield, but someone else had done it for him. From the side, a new figure emerged, and darted straight towards the cracking shield. Like how Naofumi would defend against attacks, this newcomer slammed his arm onto the dragon’s tail, sparks flying off mere contact. Whatever he was doing, it was _working_. The dragon’s tail didn’t penetrate his defence and was forced to change directions; to two others.

“Zweite Lightning Wall!”

“Fast Lightning Upgrade!”

A circle of electricity struck from the sky and detonated around the ancient dragon, and its screech echoed through the quiet forest. Without giving it time to recover, the figure of fire from before leapt in, the ballistic shield on their arm burning bright lavender. With sparks of electricity bouncing of their skin, they turned the shield onto the dragon, the fires exploding into a mountain of violet light.

“DARK—” The figure rammed the shield onto the dragon’s hide like they were covering a bunker, “—GAS BURNING!”

There was a brief explosion, shaking the ground even more than the dragon’s rampage, with cracks forming in the very earth they stood on. But then, like the power supply being cut off, the fires faded, the electricity sizzled away, like someone had snapped a finger and turned off their magic.

The previously flamed figure looked up, stunned, only to be met in the face with the dragon’s tail, knocking them towards the lake. There were cries of her wellbeing, but no names were mentioned. The man who blocked the dragon’s tail from Naofumi’s party rushed over without hesitation, in spite of the loose dragon.

“You okay?” he demanded, kneeling and offering a hand.

The figure, who had a deep woman’s voice, growled at him. “I’ll _live_ ,” she spat, taking his hand. But as their palms met, they froze, eyes falling onto the exposed flesh, the demonic armour vanished without a trace.

Like dominoes, one by one, they collapsed. Iwatani doubled over, clutching his head as he drew blood from his lips. Naomi began to hyperventilate, clutching her black shirt as she tried to gain her bearings. Kitamura fell to his knees, barely holding up as he supported himself with his arms, but even so, he breathed hard. Sickle screamed, dropping the grimoire as he buried his face in his hands.

They’ve relied on magic and curses for too long now. Take them away, and the shock processes all at once.

“Hey, hey!” Naofumi called, alarmed as they dropped like flies. Ever since he heard that voice, _Please do not use that power_ , after he tried to call upon his Shield of Wrath, and all at once, their magic stopped. “You okay over there? What—” His eyes widened when he recognized the man who could barely stand. It was his face, and the person whom he met a few weeks back. “Why are you still here?”

Iwatani didn’t answer him. It was like he hadn’t heard him at all. His eyes were in a daze, as if looking the world through a dream. No one noticed the ring of filolials slowly surrounding them, nor their queen arriving at their scene.

Like a fever dream, they were swept away in a carriage built by magic, and brought to a kingdom that was long forgotten.

* * *

No one spoke a word.

The four stared at each other, as if holding a staring contest, dreading the starting word. As of now, silence was most preferable, as they looked like wrecks. No one made comment about Sickle’s silent chokes as he tried to hold in his emotions, but his face was contorted in pain, even if he didn’t notice it.

Not even Iwatani had a smile on his face. His eyes were dark; darker than any of theirs, like he’s seen every horror in mankind and lived through them himself.

Eventually, the silence was broken, but not by them. It was by a young girl with blue hair and white wings, wearing a dress that was otherwise too elegant for the dirt beneath her feet.

“I would like to speak to you, Shield Heroine, and the Yellow Shield Hero,” she said.

Naomi was clutching her sides, her eyes widened in sheer horror as she was called. Kitamura looked down, like he was ashamed of his own title.

Still, they followed, leaving the two alone in their awkward circle. They arrived at an abandoned archway, where there was someone already waiting. A man with a shield on his arm, the jewel glowing emerald. It was clean, it was pure, _calm_ —it looked so untainted that Naomi wanted to cry at the sight of it, and she hadn’t cried for a very, very long time.

Had she made the right choice in helping him?

“You two.” Naofumi blinked, surprised at their appearance. He’s only met Iwatani, and not the others. They weren’t even sure whether if he even knew about their existence.

Fitoria didn’t hesitate to start the conversation. “I sensed dark power from the three of you.” She raised a finger, pointing at the tallest of the three, Naomi. “Especially you.”

Naomi kept her eyes on her boots. Her clothes were old and ragged, and she looked uncomfortable in them, like this was the first time she’s worn them in years.

“I’m here to warn you about the consequences,” Fitoria said to Naofumi. “But perhaps they could explain it better.” She held her arms out, balancing her small form on the walls. “I will leave you to it. The heroes mustn’t fight each other.” Like a tightrope walker, she left back to the main clearings, leaving them in awkward silence.

Neither Kitamura nor Naomi glanced at each other, and not at Naofumi. Naomi turned to a wall, clutching her sides so tightly she drew blood from her biceps. Kitamura had his hands in his pockets, glaring at the pebble on the ground, like it was the source of all his troubles.

Naofumi sighed, as he’s used to being ignored.

“Is it true?” he asked. “That you two also use the Shield of Wrath?”

Naomi froze at the name, a fearful expression creeping up her face. Kitamura still looked like he was torn between screaming and brooding silently, so she answered for him. Turning on her heels, her hunched back made her look shorter than Naofumi, but she was taller than him by centimetres.

“Yes,” she wisped, still staring at the ground. There were drops of blood on her fingertips. “For a very long time.” She shook her head. The back of her hair reached her shoulders, but it was easily ignorable. “Please, don’t ever use it. Once you do, there’s no coming back.”

“Then why did you use it?” Naofumi asked. “What happened in your world?”

Naomi smiled, but it was strained, painful, even. The ocean of guilt and regret was drowning and crashing into her, dragging her into an endless spiral of darkness. She wanted nothing more than to fall on her knees and onto a sword, but she couldn’t.

Without the Shield of Wrath, her regret was amplified, her sorrow almost deafening. There were tears in the corners of her eyes, but they never fell. Without the Cursed Shield, she was forced to face her emotions.

“When I was framed for kidnapping Prince Melt, I lost Firo,” she croaked. “He died because of Malty. She forced him into human and ran a sword through his throat.” Naofumi’s eyes widened in shock. “I lost Raph when the Pope tried to kill us. I couldn’t reach him.”

Naofumi blinked. “Motoyasu almost got Filo yesterday,” he said. “I could have lost—”

“You saved him— _her_ ,” she said softly, voice cracking. “You did what I couldn’t.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your unlocked Wrath Shield?”

Naomi fell silent, raising her shield. It was light purple, but the darkness was overtaking the light within. She was checking it, as it seems.

“Shield of Wrath VIII,” she answered, numb. “It’s even in my skill tree. Most of my skills are already corrupted, but I’ve never used any of them anyway.”

“I’ve only got to II,” Naofumi admitted. “Even so, I couldn’t handle it without Raphtalia, Filo, and Melty. You’re stronger than me.”

Naomi shook her head. “I didn’t handle it,” she corrected him. “I’ve lost control of myself since my 3rd unlocking. It’s the reason why Firo got captured so easily. I lost focus and let rage overtake me. I only realized what I was seeing when I saw his blood and the sword through his neck.”

With every word, it was like she was walking further and further from them, despite never moving. She was drifting to a place where no one can find her—a place where Naofumi almost went.

Naofumi turned to Kitamura, who was sitting on a fallen wall with his arms crossed. His yellow eyes were sharp and broken, like a shattered mirror. Naofumi saw himself in those eyes, but he has yet to break. The people that stood around him were ones that survived different fates and different traumatic experiences each.

“What about you?”

“What _about_ me?” Kitamura hissed, whipping to him. “We’re not even supposed to talk to you. Guess where we are!”

Naofumi scoffed. “You’re still under Fitoria’s territory. She told us to talk for a reason.”

Kitamura glared. “If she wanted to talk, she would have done so in my previous world.”

“You’re not who you are now when you met her. You have a cursed series.”

The yellow-eyed hero scowled, but he said nothing more. He had anger, but it wasn’t caused by his shield. It only surfaced after Fitoria dropped a ban on their dark magic alike. It was a possibility of more cursed series that could be unlocked by others, more potential firepower for his enemies. As he is now, he could barely fend off the others with his level capped at 40. They could continue to grow stronger, but he was stuck in the same place.

Kitamura roared, swinging a punch to the wall. It shattered and fell to debris with one strike, dust coating his fist instead of injuries.

“Fine,” he spat, but he was calmer, like punching the wall meant punching anger out of his system. “My cursed series is called the _Shield of Apathy_. I’ve been using it since two women tried to rape me in my sleep in Siltvelt. You satisfied, _your majesty_?”

“I’ve been trying to go to Siltvelt,” Naofumi recalled. “Is there anything I should know about?”

Kitamura stared at him as if he were crazy. “If you trust me,” he started, venom dripping from his tone, “do _not_ go to Siltvelt. Your life will be a living hell, especially with the council trying to get you impregnate women or impregnate _you_.” He didn’t sound like he was kidding. “Every bath I walk into there’s women. Then men. Then they’re trying to get me to commit _BEASTIALITY_!”

With every word, his voice raised out of not disbelief, but frustration and anger. “I’m trying to rule a fucking country and survive the fucking Wave! Not getting laid!”

If it weren’t for the dire outcome and the toll that unlocked a cursed series, Naofumi would have thought he ended as a harem protagonist in an eroge. That, indeed, sounded like the depths of horror itself.

Both of them have been through hell, and it didn’t look like they were out of it just yet.

“I understand.” Naofumi ran a hand through his hair.

He understood, but nothing could stop him if he needed that power to protect his party.

* * *

“I died by drowning once,” Iwatani muttered, his hollow eyes following the cinders of the dying fire. “I was only Level 3. They tied my hands behind my back and locked in a glass tank. Like a magic trick. Except there’s no magic trick and I died.”

Sickle didn’t look like he was listening to him, but Iwatani wasn’t planning on him to. He just needed to get this off his chest—years’ worth of pain and suffering all concentrated in this one person.

“Then one time by suffocation,” he continued. “They sealed me in a dungeon and removed the air with magic.”

“Another time was by electrocution. They tied me on top of the castle during a thunderstorm.”

“I got thrown into an arena once. My only opponent was a level-50 something griffin.”

“When I trusted a human, they poisoned me and I died after hours of pain.”

“A monster pulled out my jaw and knee and I bled to death.”

“I died when someone cut my half my throat. It took too long to die.”

“I was speared by the castle guards. I lost count of the spears in my body when I died.”

“In Siltvelt, I died from dehydration because I refused to sleep with any of the women.”

“I was held up on the wall with swords in my wrist and elbow. The public threw stones and I died by blood loss.”

“Itsuki drove me insane with his illusion arrow and I fell backwards off a cliff.”

“My upper body digested slowly in a cerberus’s stomach.”

“There’s supposed to be a lot more, but they’re all incredibly similar. I can’t remember all of them.”

“I think my shield stopped me from remembering. But it doesn’t work here.”

Throughout all of this, Sickle barely turned to look at him, as he closed himself off in his own little world—at least, what was left of it after the Wave Spell slowly took over his mind.

* * *

When Kitamura and Naomi returned, both looking like they saw a ghost, Kitamura had been the first to talk to Sickle. Naomi and Iwatani nodded at each other briefly, acknowledging they needed space.

“I noticed that you stopped caring about the danger of that Wave Spell,” Kitamura grunted, like he was trying to sound sympathetic, but he failed.

At least, Sickle turned to him, nodding lightly like he was ashamed of the fact himself. The grimoire wasn’t in his hand like it should’ve, as he was hugging his knees, burying his face in them.

“When we met, you were genuinely terrified of it and yourself.” Kitamura crossed his arms and legs, glaring at the dead fire. “Then you kept suggesting using it a lot of times.” He glanced at the male, but his teeth were gritted. His calm and apathic demeanour were no longer a part of his attitude. “I think Kyo fell under the same influence you’re in.”

Sickle flinched, shooting to him. “Do you think once I leave… _here_ ,” he choked, gesturing towards the ruined land, “I’ll become _Kyo_?”

“No.” Kitamura didn’t even think twice. His voice was firm, rough, and strangely comforting. He was nothing like the laid-back person Sickle used to know when they met. The true Kitamura was grumpy, hostile and easily irritated. “You’re stronger than him. You had the power to destroy your world, but you didn’t. You found a loving husband and a family. You tried to run when you learnt this spell. You put others before yourself.”

With a scowl, he leered closer, jabbing a finger at his forehead as if daring him to say otherwise. “You’re _nothing_ like Kyo,” he growled, threatening him if he denied it. “You’re a _Hero_.”

After flicking his forehead, which Sickle yelped, but he smiled anyway, nodding gratefully at the other. “Awkward bro hug?”

“More like twincest,” Kitamura grumbled, but threw his hand over Sickle’s shoulder anyway. “Man, this is weird,” he hissed under his breath. “I’m gonna have fucking nightmares about this ten years later.”

Sickle snorted, but it wasn’t malicious. He nodded, also throwing his arm over the other’s shoulder, leaning on the man’s sturdy defence.

* * *

As the night slowly progressed, only two figures stood awake. Naomi, the now-vulnerable Shield Heroine; and the countless reincarnation of his failed selves from the past, Iwatani. Whilst the others were fast asleep, deep in the land of dreams, their eyes never closed, the bags under their eyes dark and prominent on their pale skin.

They sat across each other, arms crossed and fingers laced, but like their previous endeavour, neither attempted to start conversation. Fitoria had spoke with Naofumi the most, and ignored their presence, most likely because they were from different worlds. What she says now can be used to affect their worlds to cause a ripple in reality. It was understandable, and they preferred it that way.

“I heard what you were saying,” Naomi said, her voice like a ghost’s. Cracking with the quietness of sorrow, accompanied with the pain of a hundred wounds. “I’m sorry.” She looked down to her beat-up sneakers. “For all the times I taunted you.”

Iwatani shook his head, but his eyes were still eternally hollow. “Nothing matters.” He scratched his head, grabbing at pieces of his hair. For once, emotion was shown on his face, his teeth gritting and his right eye scrunching up, as if he were in pain. “It’s fine.”

Naomi closed her eyes. “Once we leave, we’re going to return to normal.” She raised her shield, tracing her calloused fingers over its surface. It felt odd, to not have her fingers wound everything she touches. She’d worn that armour for so long that perhaps she’d forgotten that she was made of flesh, just like the people she burned and killed.

“Why did you help them?” Iwatani glanced at the mass of filolials, with Naofumi and his party fast asleep.

She held herself tighter. The blood on her arms dried. “Because I saw Raph.” Her voice cracked. “I saw him in her face.” She looked down. “That’s why I helped.” She looked back up, her fractured gaze boring into him. “Why didn’t you?”

Iwatani slid his eyes towards her. Their eyes were one in the same, yet vastly different. They were eyes that belonged to someone who’s seen too much, but in opposite ways. He experienced death countless times, and she relived her family’s deaths the same amount. They never let go.

They couldn’t move forward.

“Because every time I try to help someone, I end up dying,” he confessed. “I tried to convince Motoyasu to not kill Aultcray. He sent an army to us and got Itsuki killed. I tried to keep the council from dismissing the court. They put a collar on me and left me for dead.” His frustration receded, replaced by defeat. “ _Watching_ is the best thing I could do.”

Naomi nodded listlessly.

They remained in silence for the rest of the night, and daybreak finally came.

They shared a respected quietude as they stood side by side, watching Fitoria fighting Filo in the dome of magic.


	9. Faubley Naofumi Arrives... With Style! And a Lot of Thirst

Faubley Naofumi is not a good person. At least, he _was_ , until his mind snapped like a thread. He used to be a fair and just lord, a faithful and kind friend; but he turned a 180° when Takt came into his life. By any means, he did not kidnap Naofumi nor sweep him off his feet. Takt killed every one of his friends and stole his shield, leaving him to rot.

With an already brittle mind facing yet another tragedy directly related to him, his mind broke, and he developed what people would call, _Stockholm syndrome_. Not that Naofumi knew it. He just happened to be pushed so far over the edge that he found Takt perfect—when he killed others for his advantage. If Takt told him to drink poison, he would do it, even without his shield. He would gladly let the world burn for Takt.

Some would call him obsessed and insane, and it was true. He was practically heads over heels when Takt came into Siltvelt again, demanding respect as a Seven Star Hero, and Naofumi had given it to him.

He was basically Malty, but without the rape accusations, and with the bitchiness and the victim complex. He would cry when someone tried to advise him to change his orders, then spear them from behind when the advisor was alone. No one knew anything about his exploits. He would do anything to get his way. Siltvelt was always grovelling by his feet. He could set the world on fire and call it rain.

“Come on, Takt honey. You made me this way. Take _responsibility_.”

Did I mention Naofumi was literally the masochist in a harem story? Yeah, you know now. Paired with Takt, nothing good could come out of it.

He traveled with Takt, though the male was disgusted for the first few months. Naofumi provided Takt with everything he needed and wanted all with Siltvelt’s resources without regard for the country. The Three Heroes might be influential in other places, but the Shield was a god. Anything he wanted, the country was sure to provide. He could command the people to leap into a pit of fire and they would happily jump to their deaths.

Even without his Shield, Naofumi is still dangerous. He was calculative, manipulative and heartless but only in front of Takt. To everyone else, he was still sweet and soft, albeit unsettling because of the odd glint in his eyes. Anyone who tried to put Takt down was bound to find themselves in a room of blood, slowly tortured to death by the Shield Hero himself. With the Shield taken away from him, he was free to use whatever weapon he wanted, and he chose a whip, because of Takt.

It wasn’t the Vassal Whip, but it was imbued with magic. Naofumi could use skills, but it was weaker and limited compared to the Vassal and Cardinal Heroes. His affinity was Alchemy, which allowed him to fuse potions into his whip. He didn’t look like a threat, but he was deadlier than Takt.

Takt started to notice the sly fox that Naofumi truly was. He thought of the hero as weak, helpless, but after watching him lead his women into victory against Aultcray's forces, his Love O’ Meter went from -100 to a straight 69.

You know where this was going.

So, up until now, Naofumi really didn’t have a reason to commit arson because they conquered the Heroes. Takt stole their weapons and he was worshipped. Even Naofumi was respected for his assistance in Takt’s journey.

Soon, life became boring.

Takt stopped talking to him, and Naofumi still couldn’t get over him. He should have stopped obsessing over someone who didn’t love him back. He should have called himself unlucky and continue living his pampered life in Siltvelt with servants feeding him peeled grapes whenever he wanted. He should have looked away from Takt and start searching for other hot, borderline psychotic blonds in his area to settle with. But he never did. He continued brooding and taking it out on his servants whenever he felt abandoned, which was nearly everyday. Most of his servants were sent off to their families with a bag of gold because of their severe injuries and never returned. Becoming his servant became the most high-paying job with the most repercussions. You couls grab a pretty penny in just two days if you have no regard for your health.

The Three Heroes were also in his possession as slaves. With their weapons taken away, they were no longer protected by them, hence the slave marks. Naofumi’s primary source of enjoyment was to bring the blond one around the city with a chain on his neck whilst treating him like a personal pet. Motoyasu was one of the instigators who caused hik to run from Melromarc, but he was cute. If Naofumi imagined hard enough, he could see Takt’s face, but it was nothing more than a pipe dream. Whenever he was in a bad mood, he went down to the dungeons and experimented potions and spells on the two teen heroes whilst Motoyasu watched. Sometimes he would just whip them around until they bled. It all depended on his mood, honestly.

The world didn’t fear Takt—he was a womanizer, and easily manipulated by women. They feared the one who stood behind Takt, the one who would commit any crime and sin for him. So when Naofumi abruptly vanished, they rebelled. With the whole world against Takt, he was forced to flee, leaving the women behind him. The Cardinal Heroes were rescued, but they were still powerless. The Waves would be more devastating than ever.

Now, as Naofumi crossed his arms, staring at the molten pit with people residing within, bickering amongst each other, he can’t help but think: _Wow. These people are idiots_. Why didn’t they just send someone as a decoy and kill the followers? Why didn’t they infiltrate enemy ranks and start mass confusion? To him, violence wasn’t an answer. It was a question, and the answer is yes. Anyone who said otherwise has never been obsessed with a guy who dominated the world with a hound of women by his side.

He recognized the people almost instantly. The Pope whom he killed at the second wave, the first and second princesses of Melromarc, a demihuman, random women, a filolial queen, the Three Idiots… and _him_ . However, that other him still had a shield, and was _protecting_ the Spear Hero instead of kicking him to the curb and locking him up in a dungeon.

So this was a parallel universe where he didn’t meet Takt. Interesting. Did Takt not exist? That would be alarming. It would mean that Melromarc was still under Aultcray’s rule, and he hated that old crone with a passion.

Naofumi was tired of this farce. So, as the Pope raised the Replica Spear, he lashed out with his whip, the rope latching around the handle, and pulled. With his guard down, the weapon was easily yanked from his hands, and clattered to the molten crater below.

All eyes turned to him, surprised.

“A follower of the Devil of the Shield!” the Pope’s assistance cried, alarmed, stirring panic in the crowd. Some turned their magic upon him, some began to flee, but amongst it all, the Pope stood high with the beginning of a frown forming between his eyes. Out of everyone, including the Heroes, he looked to be the calmest, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“No matter,” he said calmly, taking his attention from the heroes to Naofumi. “God will purify this poor soul, whom has fallen under the Shield Devil’s control.”

Naofumi scowled. “I’m in no one’s control, old man!” The whip that was curled around his arm began to glow a hue of toxic emerald. He incorporated poison in the rope, and it was the nasty kind. “Say your fucking prayers to your bloody God! There’s only one God, and that’s Takt!”

From below, he could hear a loud: _WHAT THE FUCK?_ It strangely resembled his own voice. It must be him from this world.

Just as he was about to lash at the Pope, a hand abruptly grabbed the back of his crop top’s collar and began to haul him away.

“Sorry!” another voice called from behind him. “Carry on!” 

Naofuni was ultimately dragged to a secluded location. The arm that grabbed him was strong; stronger than him. Granted he no longer had the Shield’s protection, he was bound to have weaker physical stats than the average adventurer, even with his high level. When he turned after the hand released him, he was met with a mismatched group, all sharing the same face and shield on their arm with different heights and appearances.

“Please tell me I’m blind,” Kitamura crabbed, crossing his arms in irritation. Since Fitoria’s meddling, they’ve yet to recover fully, and they weren’t in the best shape. The only functioning one was Kitamura, and he was no ball of sunshine. “What the hell are you thinking, interfering with that battle?”

“You haven’t explained it to him yet,” Naomi muttered, her voice brittle. Without her cursed shield, she was only wearing her black shirt and jeans. “He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Naofumi gawked. These people were a sad bunch. If they were all him… Was he the only sane version? Is this what he would be like if he didn’t meet Takt?

Kitamura scowled. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he snapped, turning to the others. “Am I the one doing this? No one? Really?”

It was clear that no one was suited for any extra explaining. Naomi was suffering from severe degree cursed burns and she could barely perceive the world’s happenings. Iwatani was still trapped in his head, leaning on a log as he muttered his death scenes over and over like a chant. Sickle was clutching his hair and grimoire, unconsciously casting healing spells on himself. Kitamura was capable of communication, but he easily snapped at the slightest of things. Neither of them could function without some form assistance from their shield—it only showed how deep-rooted the trauma truly was.

Not that Naofumi knew of any of this.

“Oh, for the love of god. You’re all a bunch of sad fucks.” Kitamura paused, turning to Iwatani and patting him on the head. “Except for you. You’re still likeable.” Iwatani didn’t notice it, as he was still in his own little world. Kitamura whipped to Naofumi like he was ready to beat his ass, his teeth gritting so hard it would crack. “So, listen up, cupcake. We’re all pulled into this world and apparently it’s where everything started. Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck if you mess anything up because I hate Melromarc just as much as the next furry. (I hope you get this reference, because no one else did and I’m a lonely otaku who hasn’t touched manga in _years_.) But some massive tub of KFC told us that we’re not to interfere, so you better listen or she’s going to go all super saiyan on you.”

Naofumi crossed his arms, nodding, but never agreeing. Looks like this was the only version of him that had some guts. Maybe he could get along with him. “Who’s to say I can’t just go in and slap the bitch? Besides, that Motoyasu down there looks pretty cute. Especially when my Motoyasu goes into a depressive state when I put him in a collar and drag him around. It’s not exactly fun.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Everyone here is just as dysfunctional and psycho than you. Maybe even more. Thanks to that giant bird, we’ve hit a fucking low.” 

“Oh come on. Takt loves comforting sad girls. If I can switch bodies with her, I’d definitely get his attention!” 

He was talking about Naomi, who was too preoccupied with her own problems to listen to him. If she were in her full glory (read: _rage mode_ ), she’d pummel him to the ground and use him as a doormat. Not that Kitamura bothered to tell him, of course, even if Naomi was the strongest out of all of the Shield Heroes. 

“Takt kidnapped me once. He’s a fucking moron.”

“You can’t disrespect Takt! What do _you_ even know about him?”

“Well, he thought I was a woman. He flirts like some dude from an 80’s movie. He somehow remembers the name of every girl in his harem. He’s a lolicon. He has a demimonster fetish. I’m not sure if he’s a pedo or not, but I’m going to say yes for the sake of this argument. He also has a fetish for anything in a skirt. He’s an enemy to humankind. He has a superiority complex. He thinks he’s the hero even after killing an entire country. Spot the lie. You can’t, because it’s the fucking truth.”

Naofumi glared. The whip around his arm and neck began to glow red. “Takt is a good person!” he snapped, the thin vials of potions on his shoulder band began to glow, bubbling like boiling water. Each glowed luminescent colours, all possessing a different kind of disturbing effect. “He saved me! If it wasn’t for him, I’d be used as a slave in Siltvelt!”

… ah. That was why.

To Naofumi’s surprise, Kitamura nodded, giving a look of understanding. Irritation was still evident in his face, but it was less, starting to be replaced by relation.

“I know,” Kitamura muttered, glancing at Iwatani, who was hugging his knees. “He also knows. But his problem is a death cycle, not Siltvelt’s breeding system,” he spat helpfully. “I had Motoyasu around me to ward off suitors. You had to get to Siltvelt by yourself.”

His eyes were sad. “I’m sorry,” Kitamura wisped.

_Eh?_

“Don’t apologize,” Naofumi snapped, now the irritated one. “You disrespected Takt. I won’t forgive you.” He looked away, a red tint appearing on his cheeks. “But I’ll accept your grovelling.”

By the crater, a golden light descended from the holy replica, and cascaded into a temple that trapped the heroes with the Pope. The followers of the Three Heroes Church surrounded the magic structure, arms raised to supply mana.

“I’m going.”

All eyes were on Naomi, who’d surprisingly be the one to speak up. Without the Shield’s influence, she was the most timid one. Now, in her condition for her to voice her opinion, it must take some serious motivation.

“Ralph- no, _Raphtalia_ and Filo are in there.” Her shaky voice began to stabilize, the tips of violet fires flickering on her silver shield, dancing around her arms. The faint silhouette of her demonic armour resurfaced as her shield changed form. “I lost them, but I can stop him from facing the same fate I did.”

In a violent explosion of fire, her armour revitalized itself, stretching to her entire body, covering every inch of her skin with crimson plates. Magic lavender lines ran along every crevice, boosting her with magic and firepower. The Shield was rectangle, and almost reaching her height.

Naofumi felt himself step back from the woman. There was a maniacal glint in her eyes, the same one he would see when he looked in the mirror. When she raised her fist, her fingers were also covered in the same armour plating as her body, her fingertips sharpened to claws, similar to a dragon’s. He didn’t know if the Shield Heroine could attack, but she looked like she could decimate an entire army with nothing but her hands.

“Kitamura, you teach him all the strengthening methods!” she barked, an air of authority suddenly surrounding her being. “If they begin to attack us, you two need to fight back and defend those wusses!” She pointed at Iwatani and Sickle. “If they work on that stupid whip, then so be it! If I’m the only one who can attack, y’all are better off in hell!”

With a war cry, she charged into the horde of priests and nuns, her body surrounded in a fire that rivalled the size of a house.

Naofumi turned to Kitamura the same time he turned to him.

“Is she always like this?”

Kitamura nodded robotically.

“Damn. Takt would love her so much. Do you think we can switch bodies?”

Kitamura stepped on his foot, which probably meant he shouldn’t even think about it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna add a bunch of character quirks here.
> 
> **Heights(Tallest to Shortest):**  
>  Naomi: 184cm  
> Naofumi (Canon): 181cm  
> Faubley: 177cm  
> Kitamura: 174cm  
> Sickle: 174cm  
> Iwatani (Purefumi): 163cm
> 
> **Trivia:**  
>  1\. Faubley Naofumi's type is blonds. 
> 
> 2\. Faubley Naofumi is not married to Takt. I'm only calling him "Faubley" because it's easy to refer to.
> 
> 3\. Naomi is the most emotional person out of them all, but at the same time she handles it well and uses it to her advantage. Like when she directs her anger and sadness into her Shield of Wrath when they're fighting the ancient dragon.
> 
> 4\. Iwatani is terrified of being in the same carriage with strangers because he's been assassinated in one before, and it happened on his first day in the new loop.
> 
> 5\. Iwatani's Motoyasu is still running around with his filolials and Eclair, and they are oblivious to his happenings.
> 
> 6\. Sickle doesn't mention L'arc at all unless they ask him about it, wheareas Kitamura complaints about Motoyasu all the time.
> 
> 7\. Kitamura is the reason why homosexuality became legal in Siltvelt.
> 
> 8\. All of them share the same resentment towards Trash and Bitch. Especially with Faubley to Bitch, because she stole Takt's attention away from him.
> 
> 9\. Faubley's wayward personality isn't natural. It's caused by his shield because of: 1) his poor mental state before he was summoned; and 2) he was constantly pressured to find a woman to have conceive his child to the point he was raped multiple times. (He doesn't mention it, though. 
> 
> 10\. Faubley's unnoticed self-hatred outweighs everyone else. Out of everyone, he hates himself the most. This is why he seeks validation from his abuser so much. (He does not acknowledge this fact, either. Or rather, he doesn't know.)
> 
> 11\. Everyone but Canon Naofumi has committed murder. The order goes here from the most deaths to the least: Faubley, Iwatani, Naomi, Kitamura, Sickle. (Kitamura found it hilarious that Iwatani has a higher body count than Naomi.)


End file.
